JLA: Necessary Force
by Paxwolf
Summary: When a powerful terrorist threatens the safety of the planet, the Justice League must go to extremes to stop him, and Superman and Batman may just have to make the biggest sacrifice of all.
1. In Terrorem

**JLA**

**_Necessary Force_**

**Part One:**

**"In Terrorem"**

**By Paxwolf**

**Note:** This fanfiction story originally was begun some years ago, (one of my very  
first fanfics and older writings!) and is therefore set current to the (comic book version!)  
JLA lineup at the time, specifically during the Grant Morrison and Mark Waid runs on  
the title, and with certain details from that era still intact. It is therefore a kind of 'blast  
from the recent past', and has taken, oh man, several YEARS to see fruition! (eeep!)  
So, please be aware that certain discrepancies and dated information - in terms of  
continuity - will probably be contained within.

This 'Epic' fic actually began life as a simple 'doodling excercise' (smack in the middle of  
the story,no less!) when I was bored to tears one week while working at my ComicShop  
back in the day,and then just kept growing, and growing, and growing ... ! I've never posted  
it till this week, but have finally been convinced by some good friends to Just. DO. IT. Already!!  
(grin) And so here, at long last, we are:-)

**Warnings:** Violence, Language, and Mature Themes. Readers' Discretion is advised.

**Disclaimer: **Superman, Batman, Justice League of America, and their associated  
characters are owned and copyrighted by DC Comics and Time Warner. No  
income is being generated by the Internet publication of this story.  
(Which really is quite a pity as I am dirt poor – and it would be oh so  
fun to be able to earn a living playing in DC's grand Playground!)  
(Lucky, lucky pro writers and artists!!) Original characters do also  
exist in this fic and I suppose that might make them owned by me. ;-)

**Beta Thanks To**: **Gwil **and **kungfunurse,** without whose initial skilled beta-reading,  
enthusiasm, and sweet encouragement this epic may never have been  
developed further, and to the kind and helpful (years-long!) feedback supplied by  
the gracious **Gwil** and the lovely **Janet Coleman Sides**, both of whom  
stepped out of their own fandoms (_Stargate:SG-1_ and _Gatchaman_  
respectively) in order to read about the denizens of the DC Universe.

**Additional Thanks To:** **Jennifer McGee, Schatten, Cmer, Tmelange**, and the  
AMAZINGLY persistent **Pervyficgirl, **whose extraordinarily patient prodding and  
cajoling (a relentless 'hounding posse', really!) gave me the kick, erm, – the encouragement  
I desperately needed to finally post this Epic, and get to a place where others might derive  
some enjoyment from it. (I hope you do!) Thanks very much, guys! I hope you find the  
long wait worthwhile. :-)

**Part One:**

**"In Terrorem"**

"Are you ridiculously insane? _Run_!"

The words came pounding out of Aquaman's throat as he rolled,  
tumbling to the ground, his grapple already shooting out to pull away  
the imminently-in-danger Green Lantern.

His breath whooshing out of him as he hit the frost-hardened  
prairie surface without benefit of Ring-shielding, Kyle Rayner  
struggled to see past the red haze in front of his eyes.

Who were these guys? How did they get up here from Brazil so  
damned fast? And most importantly from Kyle's point of view, how did  
they drain Ring energy so horrifyingly completely?

"Your little rag-tag team doesn't stand a jellyfish's chance of  
stopping us, Sea-King!" sang out the apparent commander of the  
mysterious attack force. "Stay outta our way, and maybe our boss  
won't hurt you." He leered. "_Too_ badly, that is."

The heavily armoured man let out a guttural laugh, and the  
surrounding men and women joined in, even as they cocked several more  
of their devastating new weapons at the ready. The disdainful sneers on  
their faces were clear evidence of their utter confidence at facing down the  
Justice League, which was alarming in and of itself.

"_I _wouldn't mind hurting that big mouth of his," muttered Kyle,  
straining to catch his breath, still dazed at how close that last  
blast had come to incinerating him. If Aquaman hadn't …

Aquaman stood up and faced them. "You would not want to fall in  
amongst a group of jellyfish," he smiled without a trace of humour.  
"They have quite the sting, you would find. As do _we_."

"Stay low, Kyle," advised the Flash, as he appeared beside the  
breathless Green Lantern. "See if you can inch towards that rock  
piling. Let's try to distract 'em, while Arthur and Diana go for the  
Drill's online targeting computer."

"Will do," Kyle grimaced, irritated as his helplessness.

He hated not being able to pull his own weight on these missions.

Even now he could see both Aquaman and Wonder Woman diving at  
the titanic and thundering Mantle Drill, set to bury its volatile payload  
deep in the frozen earth below, while Flash threw up a windscreen as  
best he could at the mercenary forces.

Kyle swallowed. All three of his teammates looked  
worrisomely ragged.

_This isn't looking too good._

The vicious attack had been quick, efficient, well-coordinated,  
and most disconcertingly, extremely well-armed. Although the four  
Justice Leaguers' response had been immediate, teleporting directly to  
the threatened site, this time their enemy was prepared for them.

And if their mysterious adversaries were so ready to engage them  
now, when they had been taken by surprise by the League's arrival the  
previous day back in Rio, and still had nearly trounced the  
entire JLA then, things were looking distinctly … ominous.

_Just how much trouble are we in here?_

Kyle dodged another blast aimed his way and scrambled to reach  
cover.

_I'm beginning to wonder if even _we_ are out of our league this time  
'round. Man._

Wonder Woman had nearly reached the gargantuan Drill, swiftly  
cutting a path through ranks of determined but hopelessly outclassed  
mercenaries, while Aquaman drove a deep gash in the device's  
mechanical topside. Deftly avoiding an energy blast from the opposing  
attack force, Diana flew up and powered a damaging kick to the sides  
of the machine. A shower of sparks flew up as the Drill's exterior  
crackled with ominous green energy.

"Hoy! That's private property, Princess! _Yinekon_!"

Diana blinked at the man's non-English command, but didn't cease  
her attack.

"Prosohi parakalo, Astinomia! _Kinthinos_!" the commander barked  
at his cronies and then turned to train his bolt cannon directly on the Amazon.

The Flash raced forward, trying his utmost to untangle himself  
from the attacking contingent's energy-snares that they had flung at  
him, but it was obvious that even he wouldn't be fast enough, not  
slowed down as he was.

"Look out, Diana!" Kyle shouted at the top of his lungs,  
lunging forward, trying to distract the commando with desperately  
thrown stones.

_Gawd, I'm reduced to flinging rocks_, he thought disgustedly.  
_How pathetic is that?_

Wonder Woman heard his cry and spun in mid-air, reflexively  
raising crossed braceleted wrists, but the force of the unavoidable  
bolt was great enough to thrust her back and into the frost-ridden  
ground. At once, the others fired in unison, and skilled and swift as  
she was, she was unable to ward them all off.

"Othisate!" screamed the commander, a manic gleam in his eyes,  
and the firing intensified.

Wonder Woman crumpled under the heavy assault, and fell, dazed,  
to the ground.

"Efharisto, Princess," the mercenary commander smiled as he  
strode up to her, and aimed his weapon anew. "Andio."

"Oh, no, you don't, pal."

Flash urged his hobbled legs faster and  
slithered at half speed along the ground in front of the line of fire,  
kicking up a miniature but impenetrable dust storm.

"_Damnit_! Get out of my way, speedster!"

Flash ducked low as more shots were fired his way, but his dust  
trail had managed to obscure the Amazon's downed position.

_All right, Wally!_ Kyle crowed jubilantly. _Let 'em eat dust_!

Aquaman had paused at Kyle's shout, but seeing Diana temporarily  
hidden from direct fire, had instantly swung around to the far side of  
the Drill, which provided some measure of brief cover from the  
incoming hail of fire. He continued his physical assault on the  
menacing machine, which quivered even more violently, as if nearing  
final discharge.

"Lantern to Watchtower!" Kyle cried into his communicator as  
soon as he'd regained his breath, watching as Flash limped to Diana's  
side, just as both he and Arthur knew he would, checking her  
condition. "We're getting creamed down here! Where's that backup?"

"Yeah, yeah, keep your lime pants on, GL," Plastic Man's voice grumbled  
out of the comm. "We're a little run off our asses up here, y'know."

Kyle could see that Diana was stunned, but thankfully only  
semi-conscious as Flash hoisted her upright.

"I'd pants _you_ in a heartbeat if possible, O'Brian!" Kyle  
rasped. "Send help! _Now_!"

"Stop them from further damaging the Payload on the Drill!" rang  
out the command of the troop's leader. "You _know_ what happens if we  
fail!"

The attackers regrouped immediately in an impressive disciplined  
order, beginning to completely flank the Drill, leaving Aquaman no  
cover from which to continue his own assault.

Green Lantern was forced to scrabble back among the nearby  
brush, frantically looking for the pile of boulders Flash had mentioned  
and thumbing his emergency signal. He inwardly cursed the mercs'  
strange magna-coil device that, somehow, was managing to keep  
his Ring mysteriously impotent.

He could see the Flash gracelessly pull Diana over his shoulder and edge  
towards the perimeter of the battle-zone. Kyle tried to keep an eye on the  
advancing soldiers as he darted for the copse of trees, but even now they  
were resettling their bolt cannons and directing them Flash's  
way, where he stood a clear red target against the exposed  
prairie. He knew Wally was unable to run fast enough to escape, now  
that the damnable hobble-bolt had clamped itself to his ankle, slowing  
him significantly down.

And any second, Aquaman would be picked off the side of the  
Drill like a fly and their window of opportunity to take the thing out  
before it bore its horrible burden beneath the crust would be lost.

"C'mon, League," muttered Kyle to himself, as he ran out to help  
Wally haul Diana to his own none-too-secure position, tamping down  
on his desperation as best he could.

"Uh, Kyle …" Flash's gaze was centred over Kyle's left shoulder.

He whirled to spy the secondary merc contingent getting the drop on  
them, cornering the three Leaguers under the lone oak tree.

"Uh oh. Looks like we're outta options here ..."

"Ne! Sindoma!" crowed the commander, dark eyes gleaming.

"We've got 'em all against the wall!" He waved his troops forward,  
and grinned nastily. "For the glory of our lord! Go for _kill_!"

"_Kill_!" repeated the mercenary force, and Kyle swore he could  
see frenzied bloodlust suddenly burn to life in their eyes.

They began to fire as one, deadly accurate in their aim. Even  
as Green Lantern and Flash threw themselves forward, dodging, they  
could see Aquaman fighting a losing battle to deflect or avoid the  
bolt blasts in his pinned-down position.

Kyle heard Wally cry out in fury and pain, and suddenly knew  
that this merciless bulldog enemy would take no prisoners, give no  
quarter. He and his allies were actually going to lose this one.

_Damnit, damnit, no!_

Bile rose up in his throat as he fought both to increase his  
efforts, and not to scream out his revulsion at these men who would so  
willingly die or kill for the monster they called master.

"Kill!" snarled the nearest merc, and grinned insanely as he saw  
how utterly defenceless his intended targets now were. "Auf  
Wierdersehen, Justice League."

The soldier hefted his weapon, sighting along the barrel, and  
Kyle abruptly knew that the game was up. He watched as the bolts spit fire,  
death coming in a red tide, tried in vain to throw Wally and Diana to  
the ground and out of their path knowing it would be too little too  
late, when all of a sudden he felt his ears pop and a violet blur from  
the edge of his periphery was suddenly in front of him, shielding them  
all from the multiple energy bolts that smashed in red fury and  
thunder against the unshakeable body of the abruptly still Superman.

Kyle sagged to the ground beside Diana, weak with relief and  
spent adrenaline, heart thudding painfully in his chest.

_My god ..._

Superman lifted himself into the air and without any warning,  
slammed his hands together, arms stretched in front of him. The  
resulting air and sound concussion threw the majority of the troops  
onto their backsides, many losing their grips on weapons, most  
crushing their hands to their ears in pain.

Superman risked a quick look of concern over his shoulder.

"Now I know what most Metropolitans feel like on a good day,"  
Kyle gasped, catching his breath. "Yeah, we're fine. Now do us all a  
favour and _stop_ that thing!"

Giving a simple nod, Superman shot forward, not sparing time for  
further words, pausing only to quickly turn the fallen bolt cannons  
into melted slag.

Kyle could now see the Martian Manhunter hovering beside the  
Drill, covering Aquaman from further attack as they both gouged into  
the circuitry in the Drill's armoured hide in an attempt to reach the  
shielded computer.

He twisted his head to see Batman sweep down into  
the thin copse of birch trees to drop soundlessly beside Flash, easily  
picking off running mercenaries one by one with expertly pitched  
batarangs.

"Once again I'm a believer in the coming of the cavalry," Kyle  
muttered, bending to check on the reviving Wonder Woman. "JLA  
teamwork sure is something for that ole inherent faith thing."

The battle was pitched, and the Drill hummed even louder than  
before, vibrating in painful, thrumming cadence.

"Tha ithela na miliso ston … ne!" The commander screamed into his  
wrist-com, gesturing for his lieutenants to cover him as he contacted  
HQ. "I epigoosa anagi! Ah, m'lord, sir, Stipolous here. They've  
just called in their big guns!" He turned to add additional fire at  
the seemingly oblivious Man of Steel who was proceeding to speedily  
disarm the bulk of his troops. "Whaddaya mean, precisely _who_? Uh, sir.  
Sorry, m'lord. But how's that relevant right now? We're now_ losing_ it here!"

He paused to order flame-throwers activated to keep the Martian  
separated from the more vulnerable amphibian man. "Singnomi! Er,  
apologies, sir, but any second Big Blue's gonna notice my itty-bitty  
mosquito bites and … What? _Then katalaveno_? Yeah, sir, he's one of 'em.  
Uh oh. Damn! Here he comes! My lord, you gotta send help! Parakalo!  
_Parakalo_!"

Superman arced down like a comet, brushing the scattered shots  
of force bolts aside as if they were flies, but the commander could  
see at near proximity that the bolts did have some small effect on the  
alien at least. But he suddenly became too up-close to use his  
observation to his advantage as Superman yanked him up by his  
ammo-belt and into the air, grasping his cannon at its mouth in one  
steely hand.

_Herete, Superman_, the commander thought grimly, and maintaining  
his composure even as he was hoisted into the sky, fired his weapon  
point-blank when the alien's attention was momentarily diverted by a  
scream from far below.

He heard Superman's sharp intake of breath, and saw the grimace  
of pain etch itself across the chiseled features, the awful burns  
appearing on the fine skin and then healing nearly too rapidly to  
spot.

Nearly.

"Do you want to keep your fingers?" the commander suddenly  
heard, the anger in the deep voice more than terrifying in its utter  
restraint.

Understanding the better part of valour, he hastily slipped his  
gloved hand from the trigger mechanism before Superman wrenched his  
force cannon away, crushing it into a tiny, twisted metal ball as it  
went.

"Xerete poo ine?" Superman asked, staring directly into the  
startled commander's face, and the man was sure that the Kryptonian's  
eyes were glowing.

He didn't answer, flicking his eyes at him, and Superman's  
mouth tightened.

"Fine. English it'll be then. _Ayestrom_. Where is he."

The question was more of a demand, and the commander swallowed  
as he looked between his dangling feet at the ground now so very far  
beneath him. But his leader would do far worse to him if he were  
betrayed.

_Rule One_, he thought in his native language, never sever your  
ties to the big money or power before its time.

"You and your precious League don't stand a chance against us,  
Super-cop," he sneered aloud, thinking of the secret he was privy to. "And  
the sad thing is, you'll never figure it out. You keep interfering in  
his work, he'll mop you freaks up and eat you for _proino_!"

"Ena trapezi ya thio, parakalo." There actually seemed to be a  
slight smile on the alien's lips.

The commander stared. The boy scout was making _jokes_?

_A table for two?_

"Ti tha protinate?" Superman then asked, an impudent grin on his face.

"What I _recommend_ is that you surrender," the commander snarled  
back in English, regaining his poise. "Surrender to him! He may not  
show you yourself mercy, that would indeed be _very_ doubtful, but on  
his honour, he will keep the civilian casualties to a minimum."

"And if I decide _no_t to surrender?" The question was mild, as  
if the man was merely gathering information and wasn't at all  
concerned about the threat to the planet or his team.

"Then expect to be his guest for_ fayito_. You'd make a very  
splendid dish indeed." He couldn't help the nasty smile that tugged  
out at the thought. "Alien _vrasto_, perhaps."

"Then I don't suppose your master's a vegetarian, is he?"

The commander stared again, then gnashed out enraged, "You are a  
bloody fool! He's – _we_ are more powerful than you can begin to  
grasp!"

To his surprise, Superman merely nodded and his mouth quirked up  
at the corner.

"I don't know, Commander, I can grasp quite a bit. And if he's  
so all-powerful, for what does he need mercenary stooges like you?"

The alien's expression suddenly hardened, and the commander felt a quick surge  
of fear colder than the frigid wind course through him. "And for what  
purpose would he need hostages?" He shook his head. "Honour? Only a  
dishonourable coward need hide beneath a blanket of _children_."

Superman quite obviously could not conceal the revulsion in his  
voice. The mercenary commander could no longer control his body's  
slight shaking as vertigo overcame him when he looked away from the  
grim visage before him and saw only clouds where before there had been Earth.

_Rule Two_, he thought dizzyingly to himself, _don't ever make a  
Kryptonian under a yellow sun angry._

He wondered if the stories about Superman never taking a human  
life were just rumours and he'd soon find himself suffocating or  
freezing to death in the upper atmosphere, or broken into a zillion  
bits on the frozen ground so invisibly far below.

He suddenly thought he felt the steely fingers on his armour  
slightly loosen their grip, and before he could help himself, he was  
wildly grabbing at Superman's arms and shoulders, his heart in his mouth.

_Xristos_! He didn't want to fall.

"Mi, mi, parakalo! O-okay. _O ithios_. Just … just don't let go of me."

"I'm listening."

The commander swallowed, not easing his own death grip on  
Superman's forearm.

"Well, ehete …?" Superman prompted.

"I said _okay_!" he practically screamed out, trying vainly to  
keep his quavering voice steady. He drew a breath of freezing air and  
was grateful for the burning in his lungs. He couldn't serve his master  
if he were dead, after all. "My lord, he … Ayestrom's hiding out in the  
Nethe –"

His divulgence was cut off when Superman's attention was suddenly  
pulled elsewhere, as if he was listening to something, and quite abruptly the  
commander was on the very solid-seeming ground, gasping, completely breathless  
after the super-speed plummet to Earth.

"It's about to drop payload!" Batman was shouting, whipping  
around even as he easily dispatched the last of the commander's men  
with precise kicks and blows. "_Superman!_"

Aquaman was already on the ground, cursing in Atlantean as the  
Drill's whine increased to a painful volume, staring balefully at the  
machine. The Martian Manhunter lay in the dead grass, clearly  
suffering from recent exposure to pure flame, struggling to pull  
himself up with Wonder Woman stumbling over to help him.

The Drill rumbled alarmingly, apparently undeterred from its  
programming despite Aquaman's and the Manhunter's attempted damage.

It was obvious that it was microseconds away from driving itself into  
the crust.

"Arthur, back off! _NOW_!"

Aquaman instantly sprang into the air, rolling forward out of  
the monster's range even as Superman drove himself bodily straight at  
the Drill, eyes already afire.

The resulting explosion shook the ground for miles around. Kyle  
and Wally were completely knocked off their feet. Frozen chunks of  
dirt and prairie grass rained down like bullets as Batman swiftly  
pulled Flash and Green Lantern under the dubious shelter of the lone oak,  
and Diana deflected the hail of debris from her and J'onn with  
her bracelets.

As the bucking of the earth subsided and the sky stopped  
falling, Batman, the only one relatively unfazed, vaulted over the lip  
of the newly formed crater and disappeared into the black smoke  
that roiled out in thick, oily waves.

Arthur and Diana looked at each other and immediately followed,  
trying not to breathe in the acrid fumes. After several blind  
minutes, they came across Batman more by luck than by anything else.

As the worst of the smoke dissipated, they found the Dark Knight  
crouching over the prone figure of Superman, who lay half buried in  
rock and mud, clearly having been smashed into the side of the pit by  
the incredible force of the explosion.

He wasn't moving, and the familiar red and blue uniform was  
dreadfully torn up; not a good sign.

"Is he …?" Diana forced herself to ask in between coughs,  
battling her fear as she watched Batman, breathing filter already in  
place, feel for a pulse in Superman's exposed neck.

Was that mud or was it blood oozing its way down the too-pale skin?

"He's alive," Batman answered curtly, reaching to lift  
Superman's head free of the dirt. "But pulse is thready."

"Breathing?"

"No."

"He's bleeding," Aquaman noted hoarsely.

Batman only nodded, working frantically to clear an airway  
through the muck.

"Come on, Clark," he whispered, tearing off his filter and  
leaning down to tilt up Superman's head, and push a breath into  
the open mouth. "Don't you _dare_ quit on me now."

Diana turned and threw a fist into the rock. The resulting  
cracks freed the right side of Superman's body from its prison of  
stone and clay. As they pulled his body free, Batman ceased applying  
mouth-to-mouth, and felt again for a pulse. At his glance of alarm,  
Aquaman flung himself to his knees and began CPR.

Batman nodded at Aquaman to continue his chest resuscitation  
while he continued to breathe air into Superman's unresponsive lungs.

"How long can he go without oxygen again?" Diana asked,  
dropping down to grip Superman's shoulder tightly, face pale.

"Not applicable here," Batman grunted. He pushed another breath  
through, and leaned over to peer at the closed eyes. Not even a  
flutter. "Come _ON!_" he almost shouted, the first sign given of his  
own concealed fear and anxiety.

As if hearing, Superman's body suddenly galvanized, and he came  
up spitting out blood and dirt and choking in the smoky air,  
struggling weakly against the restraining arms of the three Leaguers.

"Thank Poseidon!"

"Rest easy, Kal," Diana said soothingly, brushing more mud out  
his eyes with gentle fingers as he looked around, clearly disoriented.  
"We'll get you out of here."

"C-can't … breathe …" he choked, and Batman leaned over and took  
his face between his hands, forcing him to focus on him.

"It's all right, you're sa- we're here."

Superman stared up at him, eyes wild for a split second. And  
then he drew a sharp, painful breath and managed a short nod as his  
senses returned and he tried to calm himself.

"We'll have to move him," Batman said, voice hoarse, and he and  
Aquaman carefully extracted him from the collapsing mud wall and eased  
him to his feet.

Superman bit his lip hard as his three teammates helped him  
stagger to the slick sides of the huge pit. Halfway up the slippery  
climb, he stumbled and hitched over, a silent gasp escaping his lips,  
right arm pressed tight against himself. Batman gently but firmly  
moved the arm and slid an expert hand over his side.

"Broken ribs."

"They'll heal," Superman said through gritted teeth and took  
another unsteady step forward.

The others were gathered a bit away from the edge of the crater  
where the smoke was gradually thinning, putting out the numerous small  
fires from burning Drill parts and guarding the dazed and disarmed  
mercenary troop force.

"Man oh _man_," whistled Kyle as Batman and the others appeared,  
supporting a horrific-looking Superman. "You look like you just took  
on a getaway planet, Supes. And lost."

"Big time," added Flash, looking up from where he was sitting on the  
ground, trying to hack off the hobble on his leg with a metal bit of Drill.

"What happened?" Superman asked thickly, shaking his head to  
clear it and trying not to wince at the pain that caused.

"Well, you stopped the Drill," Flash said unnecessarily.

"But, it shouldn't have …"

"No, it shouldn't have," Batman said, removing his filter again and  
looking daggers at the sprawled mercenary commander who was just now  
regaining consciousness. "It was rigged to detonate if struck with  
too great a force, wasn't it?" His gaze narrowed. "Or possibly if  
extreme heat were applied."

The commander curled his lip at him but didn't respond.

Moving with the speed and lethal grace of a panther, Batman strode over to  
where the hapless man lay and grabbed him by the neck, spearing him  
with a fierce glare.

"_Almost_ as if it were a trap. For either the Manhunter ... or Superman."

The commander's thick lips split into a sneer even as he shrank  
weakly from Batman looming over him. "Too lete oti tilefonise o/I  
Ayestrom."

The man's head lolled back in Batman's grip as he relaxed back  
into unconsciousness. Batman let him go in disgust, and turned to  
meet Superman's eyes.

Superman looked across at him, mouth tightening, but saying nothing.

"What did he just say?" Kyle inquired, lost.

Wonder Woman was looking down at the mercenary with a frown. "He  
said, 'Tell him Ayestrom called.'" She looked up at the others. "He  
was speaking Greek."

"Odd," Flash said. "I swear I heard one of the others say  
something in German."

"Guess they're a multi-lingual mercenary force," Kyle shrugged, partly to  
hide his moment of being impressed. "We already know they're not American,  
right?"

J'onn was gazing at the bedraggled Superman.

"With that flame, the explosion would have certainly killed me  
if it had been I in there instead of you, Kal-El," he said quietly.  
"It has very nearly crippled _you_."

Superman squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, taking a deep  
breath and immediately thinking better of it as his ribs protested in  
white-hot agony.

"Thank God, then, that neither is the case," he said softly,  
doing his best to hide the degree of discomfort. He looked up to see  
Batman watching him knowingly.

"Yeah, well, that was some blast," Kyle remarked.

"Master of the obvious," Flash commented with a grin.

Kyle pointedly ignored him. "What was_ in_ that thing, anyways?  
If we'd been any closer ourselves, we'd all have been taken out, easy  
as pie." Kyle snapped his fingers. "And what a way to go, splattered  
into a billion bits by a freaking ginormous _drill,_ of all things, especially  
without the protection of my Ring, which, oh, hey, is now back online, kids!"

He looked surprised even as he said it, as instantaneous green  
energy poured out of the ring on his hand and formed a giant hamster  
cage, complete with wheel, around the number of reviving soldiers. He  
let out a whoop of relief, and added a water bottle and food  
dispenser, full of green pellets.

"There may have been some device contained in the Drill itself  
that emitted a signal serving to block the Ring's power," Batman  
deduced thoughtfully. He pocketed several bits of debris from  
the ground and rose slowly. "Ingenious."

"Clearly some foresighted strategy was put into this … this  
scheme of Ayestrom's," Superman agreed, straightening with an effort  
and leaning imperceptibly away from Wonder Woman and Aquaman's  
supportive arms.

"Too much foresight," said Batman forebodingly, "and far too much power."

The implications settled on them all, dark and awful, like the  
falling ash that still drifted down from the smoky sky.

"Well, let's look at the bright side," Kyle quipped, more to  
break the somber mood than anything. "At least we've got prisoners  
this time." 

Wally suddenly noticed a shimmering distortion between the bars  
of the Ring-willed hamster cage.

"Not for long we don't!" he cried, zipping over to the makeshift  
prison, even as the others spun around.

The mercenaries and soldiers, conscious and not, were fading from view.

"_Arrivederla_, heroes!" a female merc called out cheerily, with a  
jaunty wave.

"Ayestrom's retrieving them! Damnit!" Batman swore, even as  
Kyle instantly willed a solid green shield over the prisoners, to no  
avail.

"What's this guy _got_? A teleporter too?"

"Terrific."

Aquaman rubbed at his bruised arm, glaring at the empty prairie  
before them as the useless Ring-shield winked out, flinging an  
additional glare at Kyle.

"Hey, not my fault!" protested Kyle, backing up hastily.

"Now we'll not be able to find out where the demon has taken the  
hostages," Diana said tiredly, clenching her fists around her golden  
lasso in frustration.

"Oh, I don't know about that," Superman said slowly, scanning  
the area around him, his gaze distant. "We may have something of a  
clue this time."

The others turned to him inquiringly, hope naked on their faces.

"The commander you grabbed talked," Batman stated. Superman  
gave him a look and Batman smiled grimly. "Your little stratospheric  
tour must have been quite … persuasive."

Kyle looked up at Superman – he hadn't even seen the Big Guy  
grab any bad guy stooge off the ground.

"It started to be," Superman answered, finally giving up on the  
sky and obviously pulling in telescopic or ultra-violet or heat-energy  
vision or whatever it was he was using to glance back at Batman. "We  
were interrupted."

"Did he say anything?" Kyle himself interrupted, then blanched  
as five Leaguers each turned a glare on him.

_Geez, if looks could kill …_

"He did happen to mention that Ayestrom enjoys dining in  
Holland, and parts thereof," replied Superman with a tight grin.  
"Might indeed be a very good place to start investigating."

"If there is anything unusual there," J'onn agreed in all  
seriousness, "we shall find it. And we _shall_ prevail."

When Superman said nothing further, but only stared down at the  
ground and seemed to be concentrating on breathing, and Batman seemed  
preoccupied with his thoughts, J'onn turned to the others  
authoritatively.

"I suggest we reconvene at the Watchtower. We will attend to  
our wounds," he flicked a look at Superman, "and gather our strength,  
and perhaps marshal a strategy of our own, utilizing our informant's  
information."

"Capital idea, my Martian fellow," said Flash loftily. "I  
really want to get this hobble thingamajig off my leg. Maybe Steel'll  
want to analyse its parts later, derive something useful outta its  
tech."

"The information's good only if that Greek freak doesn't squeal  
to Ayestrom about squealing to Superman," Kyle said, then blanched all  
over again at the look from Diana. "Uh, I should add here for the  
record that I really did enjoy learning about ancient Greece in college ...  
fave subject, in fact ... top grades ... thought about grad school ..."

"All well and good, Manhunter," Aquaman said, huffing out a  
breath in impatience. "But I think we should have a few of us attempt  
to track down Ayestrom's lackeys immediately. Before that merc  
commander's little leak slips out. _Before_ we lose any advantage we  
gained."

J'onn nodded. "That is perhaps a wise id-"

"No."

They all looked at Superman, who, although swaying slightly on  
his feet, looked back at them determinedly.

"We stick together. For now. We have seen the level of power  
at play here, and several of Ayestrom's assets. His troops, the  
super-powered metas, the weapons … no, we can't afford to go off  
half-cocked. We plan first. Together. Then, and_ only_ then, will we  
… retaliate."

Everyone nodded, even finally Aquaman, although obviously irritated.  
He snapped out his communicator and raised the Watchtower.

"Meanwhile," J'onn remarked soberly, "we should also contact the  
Canadian government and endeavor to explain why there is a hole the  
size of a city block in the middle of this province."

"Absolutely," Diana sighed, and surveyed the destruction around  
them sadly. "At least we can be thankful that the damage we leave behind is  
not _to_ a city block - this time."

"Indeed."

"So far I'm not overly impressed with the famed Canuck  
hospitality," Wally whispered to Kyle, shivering slightly. "It's cold  
as hell here, and no locals around to even care that we just saved  
their collective backbacon."

"American snob," Kyle returned, rolling his eyes as he gathered  
up a few more pieces of Drill parts for Steel's lab. "They're probably  
too polite to ask what a battle like this was even _doing _in the middle of  
big, fat nothingness, nowheresville even by their standards."

"Can't figure it myself. But then, that's our resident detective's  
department, thank god."

They got into position for teleportation after making certain  
that every one of the small fires burning all over the site were put  
out. At least no prairie fires would result from the day's battle.

"Look at his arm and his head," Batman observed quietly to  
Wonder Woman, who finished stamping out a smoldering bit of wreckage  
with her boot and turned to gaze at the indicated Superman. He was  
leaning wearily against the lone oak tree, arms folded over himself in  
a rare posture of ... of vulnerability. She frowned.

"It has been several minutes since we pulled him out of the pit.  
Shouldn't he have stopped bleeding by now? The sun …"

"Umm-hmm," Batman only said, narrowing his eyes.

"He'll be all right," Diana said, her chin raised. "He just  
needs rest and time. We'll make him let J'onn take a look in the  
infirmary when we get back."

Batman only lifted a shoulder in reply, and then he, Diana, and  
Superman were teleported away.

Kyle stepped to the spot where the senior members of the team  
had disappeared, ready to be zapped up to the moon. He looked around  
at the battle zone, and something in his heart clenched. "This isn't  
gonna be a walk in the park, is it?"

Wally hobbled up, taking a spot beside J'onn and Arthur. After  
a second, he glanced at him before looking down, expression  
uncharacteristically grim. "No," he said softly, and Kyle followed  
his gaze and saw his eyes were trained on a smear of blood, bright  
against the dead grass and its thin coat of frost.

Superman's blood.

Flash turned away. "Somehow, Kyle, I don't think it is."

Kyle bit his lip.

_Why do I have a spectacularly bad feeling about this?_

And then the teleportation beam was taking them, and the  
blackened and scorched prairie landscape faded into darkness around  
him.


	2. Ex Hypothesi

**JLA**

**"Necessary Force"**

By Paxwolf

**Note: **This fanfiction story originally was begun some years ago, and is therefore set current to the (comic book version!) **_JLA_ **lineup at the time, specifically during the Grant Morrison and Mark Waid runs on the title, and with certain details from that era still intact. It is therefore 'old', and has taken several years to see fruition, and therefore be aware that certain discrepancies and dated information - in terms of continuity - may still be contained within.

**Characters:** Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter, Green Lantern (Kyle Rayner), Flash (Wally West), Aquaman, Plastic Man, Oracle, and other League Members, DC heroes, and Original Characters

**Disclaimer:** _  
_

_The Justice League of America_ and its associated characters are owned and copyrighted by DC Comics and Time Warner. No income is being generated by the internet publication of this story. Original characters do also exist in this fic and I suppose that might make them owned by me. ;-)

**Warnings:** Violence, Some Language, and Mature Themes. Readers' Discretion is advised.

**Thanks To**: **Kungfunurse**, without whose skilled beta-reading and sweet encouragement this epic may never have been posted, and to the kind and helpful (years-long!) feedback supplied by the gracious **Gwil** and the lovely **Janet Coleman Sides**, both of whom stepped out of their own fandoms (_Stargate:SG-1_ and _Gatchaman_ respectively) in order to read about the denizens of the DC Universe.

**Additional Thanks to**: jen-in-japan, pervyficgirl, archschatten, cmer, mendax, and tmelange, for forming a posse of hounding-ness, and got me to get over my reluctance and post this darned thing, old and rambling as it is. It was originally meant only as a kind of doodle, to pass a boring stretch of time at work at a Comicshop years ago, and never meant for public consumption, but I was convinced otherwise, thanks to them. Enjoy!**  
**

**A/N**: This is just a short part, a prologue of sorts to the much-longer Part 3. I hope you enjoy:-)

**Part II:**

**"Ex Hypothesi"**

"I told you I'm back to normal!"

"Run the diagnostic anyway. _Now_."

"Again?"

"Again. And yet again, until we know."

"Fine. But it's really not necessary."

"Just do it."

Green Lantern rolled his eyes and reactivated the computer in the weapons lab. Batman folded his arms across his chest and glowered down at him as though he were personally responsible for all that had gone wrong since the League had first stumbled across Ayestrom's name.

"And how many times do we have to do this?"

"Until we figure out what caused it to behave unresponsively during the attack," Batman said, as if lecturing a child. "I don't like such unpredictable factors, particularly in the midst of battle."

"Yeah, well, you and me both," Kyle grumbled. "Didn't much care being such easy pickings for those hired thugs."

"More importantly, we need to know we can depend on the Ring's power when we bring the fight to Ayestrom."

"I know, I know," Kyle sighed, and once more stuck his hand under the scanner. The schematics window on the monitor once more lit up, displaying all facets of the Oan weapon.

Batman leaned down, staring at the monitor impassively.

"See?" Kyle couldn't resist, spinning his chair to glance up at Batman. "It's still showing green. Pardon the pun."

Batman only scowled at the diagnosis, turning away towards the door at the approaching sound of J'onn's voice.

"You really must rest, Kal-El," J'onn was entreating, entering the room with his colleague, who was walking in all apparent health, clad in a fresh uniform. "The injuries you sustained this afternoon may have superficially healed, but the past several days' accumulated stress, physical and mental efforts, battles, and _wounds_," he gave a strategic pause, " … have placed a great strain on your system. Perhaps dangerously so."

"J'onn, I'm fine. An hour under the sun and I'll be up to par. Seriously."

J'onn and Superman paused beside Batman, looking down at the screen's schematics.

"Any progress?"

"Nothing discernible." Batman studied Superman for a moment, who only met his gaze steadily, and then flicked a look at J'onn. "I take it his exam went … well."

"He does not make a very good patient," J'onn commented, turning a dark eye on his companion.

Superman shrugged.

"Look, guys," Kyle stood up, stretching a bit. "My Ring's up to par too. Neither of us will let you down again. And it's high time this Ayestrom jerk gets what's coming to him."

"Agreed," Superman said, his expression instantly darkening. "Those hostages aren't getting any safer."

"And time does not seem to be in our favour," Batman interjected morbidly. "The enemy will be working on yet a third Drill to threaten the planet's stability - and with which to hang over the UN's heads. And he will be aiming it somewhere entirely new. There are too many locations where the Earth's crust is thin enough to deploy this weapon."

"Approximately one hundred and forty seven projected vulnerable sites," put in Superman, calculating quickly, equally grim.

"We may not be so fortunate to reach and stop it again in time," Batman added with another scowl. "Accomplishing the feat twice now may have been pushing our luck."

"Boy, you guys sure know how to cheer a fellow up," Kyle groaned. "That's a helluva lot of planet to cover." A miniature green-tinged Earth bloomed to life near the lab's ceiling. He admired his Ring creation for a second before raising his eyebrows pointedly at Batman as if to say 'I told you so'.

Batman ignored him.

Kyle sulked.

"Persistence does seem to be an attribute Ayestrom cultivates," J'onn observed.

"Well, it's a good thing it's one that we do as well," Superman responded, brows drawing together. "Time to knuckle down to it." He looked up and speared the other three with his laser blue gaze. "JLA Briefing Room. Ten minutes. Everyone come armed with ideas, no matter how far-fetched. It's past time we became proactive on the situation, not reactive."

The other three Leaguers nodded at Superman's strident tone. They were going to put an end to this mega terrorist's current reign of terror, and start now.

It was what the League did.

As the others stepped out of the laboratory, intent on their thoughts, Superman pulled Batman aside with a look. Batman paused obligingly, waiting for Superman to speak. But Superman seemed a million light years away for a precarious moment before turning back to his teammate.

"This isn't going to be an easy one, is it?"

"No. It's not." Batman eyed Superman curiously. "But when has it ever been?"

Superman shook his head, glancing away as if to hide whatever his expression revealed. "You're right, of course."

"I am," agreed Batman implacably. "It would behoove you well to remember that I am nearly always right."

At that, Superman's head shot up and he searched Batman's inscrutable face, until at last a flash of warmth lit up his eyes. But the smile did not reach Superman's mouth.

"I'll bear that in mind," he said dryly.

"As well you should."

Superman gave a light snort but let the remark pass. He cocked his head towards the door, and stepped out into the long corridor. Batman moved into place at his side, watching him carefully without being obvious about it. Generally Superman always caught on whenever he was being observed, no matter how surreptitious Batman was, but today he seemed lost in another world.

Batman frowned.

"So when are you going to talk about it?"

Superman stiffened. "I have no idea what you mean."

"Don't play games, Superman," Batman growled. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

For a moment, Superman said nothing. Then, "I was under the impression we had resolved all that."

"Your impression was wrong." His gaze narrowed as he studied the man before him, seeing the taut muscles quivering almost imperceptibly. "You took an inordinately long amount of time to heal this time," he said bluntly.

Superman's mouth tightened further. "I'm fine now. That's what counts."

"Are you? Because that's not what it lo ..."

"Can you contact Oracle?" Superman interrupted, twisting to face him finally. "Bring her up to speed. Any information she can dig up concerning suspicious activity in the Netherlands …"

For a moment, Batman paused, watching him, wanting to press the issue. Then he let it drop - for the time being. "Already done. She'll be delivering her report within the hour."

"Good. Have her pipe it directly to the Briefing Room. I want everyone on the same page with this."

"Very well." Batman paused, then added, "It is, however, already the prior arrangement. I assumed we'd need all members to be simultaneously informed on everything she'll have discovered."

"Of course." Superman gave a tight grin this time. "Should've known better than to even ask."

Batman very nearly gave a half smile of his own. Nearly. "You're catching on."

But Superman's brief grin had already faded. He halted and seemed to be staring at nothing for several seconds. Batman stopped too and looked at him. For a gut-twisting moment all he could see was how he had looked at the bottom of that smoking pit, unbreathing, bloody, pale … lifeless.

"We can't afford to stumble like this again, Bruce," Superman was saying quietly, and Batman shook himself savagely out of the memory. Superman was here, now, breathing. _Alive._ "This … madman, this ... 'Lord' Ayestrom, seems to be two steps ahead of us at every turn. And the demands he made to the UN …" He shook his head and seemed to somehow slump slightly, though outwardly his posture had not changed.

"Then obviously, we shall simply have to out pace him and stay _three _steps ahead."

"Yes. Guess we'll have to."

Their eyes met for an instant, each seeing the tension and the fatigue in the other. Batman started to open his mouth when Superman abruptly turned and stared out the west viewport, eyes trained at the moonscape below.

A shining crescent Earth hung over the silvery barren foreground, and Batman turned slightly to follow as Superman's gaze fixed on it. Together they watched the Earth rise over the horizon, the Sea of Tranquility lying in a glinting expanse below. For several long moments, they stood there, unspeaking.

Superman moved. Batman watched as the Kryptonian placed his hands on the narrow sill, and leaned his weight forward on his arms heavily, as if he were too exhausted to stay upright any longer. The reflected earthlight without served to highlight the drawn lines and shadows under his eyes.

Batman hesitated, his own brows knitting together.

"We still know next to nothing about Ayestrom himself," Superman murmured, gaze trained on the planet above and voice so low that Batman was forced to step closer to hear. "Who is he, really? Where is he from? Is he native to Earth, or is he extra-terrestrial?" He sighed and rubbed a hand across his brow. "At the onset of the attack in Metropolis, I'm sure I heard that big, super-powered general of his claiming that Ayestrom was some kind of royalty."

"I believe he also claimed that he was a god," Batman interjected, a slightly sardonic note to his voice.

Superman cast him a look. "Yes." He again gave a slight shake of his head. "And if he is a metahuman, does he possess any major superhuman powers? If so, what sort? What would be the source of his power? And damnit, he is powerful – his following alone gives credence to that. And those weapons ... that kind of technology isn't anything we've seen before."

"No," Batman said, eyes narrowing. "It's not."

Superman closed his eyes, his head bowed. "There's too much we don't know. Too many questions. What's he really after? And why has he used hostages, only to allow us to fight his troops without stated harm to them?"

Superman's fist clenched in frustration, the titanium port sill crumpling unnoticed under his grip.

Batman noticed.

"We will find out the answers to those questions," he said firmly, reflecting inwardly how revealing it was that this man, usually so aware of his incredible strength, leashing it in iron control, now seemed completely oblivious to the damage. He stepped even closer. "And, Clark, we will defeat him."

Superman slid a sideways glance back at him, the corner of his mouth curling up infinitesimally.

"Seems our roles are reversed today. Usually I'm the optimistic one."

"And if we're both grim and withdrawn, how will the others cope?"

That elicited a slow but almost genuine smile from Superman, who turned to face his partner squarely.

"Maintaining a balance at all times."

Batman inclined his head a fraction.

"You're right." Superman gave a wry snort at Batman's 'of course' expression. "I'll try to do better."

"I would expect nothing less."

Superman gave an actual full smile this time, and it was as if the sun had suddenly come out from behind a dark bank of clouds. "I hope not."

Batman turned away abruptly and began to stride down the corridor. "To the briefing, then?"

He could hear the rustling of the cape as the Man of Steel bowed slightly and gestured with an expansive arm, as clearly as he could sense the lingering smile. "After you."

But the moment of warmth fled only too quickly, as the grim news that only minutes later they received wiped any lingering smiles from both their faces, and settled a fist of ice tightly around each of their hearts.

-----------

Feedback and constructive criticism is, as always, most appreciated. :-)

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	3. Stratagem  Part 1

**JLA**

"**Necessary Force"**

By Paxwolf

**Note: **This 3rd chapter was originally so long that I had to divide it into two parts, so this is actually the first half of "Stratagem". I hope you enjoy:-)**  
**

**Please see all disclaimers, warnings, notes, and acknowledgements at the front of _Necessary Force_ Part One: "In Terrorem". Thank you!**

**Part III:**

**"Stratagem"**

**E**ight of the most powerful people on Earth sat tensely around the shield-embossed round table, watching the huge screen that dominated the far wall. One minute earlier, their current problem had suddenly escalated into a full-scale global crisis.

"So, that crazy corkscrew thingamajig was just a decoy all along," Flash muttered disgustedly. "The JLA was nearly completely taken out by a stupid …_diversion._" He said the word as if it tasted quite sour in his mouth.

"If it makes you feel any better, Flash, it is likely that the assaults were primarily designed to test our abilities and response time rather than inflict actual damage."

"Considering that we were pretty much creamed," Wally replied with an uncharacteristic angry hiss, "not really, Diana."

"Let's recoup," Superman broke in at Wonder Woman's affronted look, silencing the increasing grumbles and mutters. The stress was getting to even _them_. "While we were otherwise engaged …"

"I _did_ try to alert you guys," Plastic Man grouched, casually twisting his elastic limbs into an overlarge JLA communicator device. "I couldn't seem to get through on any of our multi-billion, foolproof, masterminded NASA/Martian/Kryptonian/Thanagarian hightechy-like frequenci …"

"Not_only_ were our communications unexpectedly scrambled," Superman continued, shooting a glance at O'Brian, "a so-called 'Mantle-Drill' appeared in two sites at times nearly in conjunction, one in Saskatchewan, and the other in Hokkaido, causing us to be significantly occupied to the point we were unable to respond to the _third _assault in the Yucatan Peninsula directly after. Unfortunately, that last one did succeed in causing massive earthquake damage, and additionally, spurred unexpected volcanic and seismic activity along its coast." He paused, swallowing, and everyone knew he was leaving out the details of the horrific devastation and loss of life. They had seen enough on the viewscreen to realize just how extensive it had been. "And there's more, I'm afraid."

Everyone exchanged looks of foreboding and dread.

"More?" squeaked Plas, huge red earmuffs forming around his head. "No, no, don't wanna hear it, nope! Can't make me!"

"Oh, man," Kyle said dully, his chin dropping into his hands. "What _is_ this, 'Dump On The League Day'?"

"Lay it on us, Big Guy," Flash said, bracing his hands against the table.

Superman shot a look at Batman and then schooled his features into an expression of calm strength. "Minutes ago, Oracle informed us of the sudden simultaneous attacks on seven UN-affiliated embassies in Madrid, Beijing, Bombay, Moscow, Bangkok, Nairobi, and Budapest. Subsequently, several high-profile ambassadors have been abducted, presumably by cohorts or followers of Ayestrom's organization."

Several Leaguers looked shocked at the news, and then anger grew in the room like a thunderstorm.

"Why would he DO that?"

"He already has the world's ears!"

"Why them?"

"Wasn't _any_body doing security for those guys?"

"It's bad enough that this creep abducted those kids …"

"Just how many lackeys does this creep got, anyways? The sheer manpower to have carried off an operation of this size ..."

"Enough, everyone, please!" The group settled into silence at Superman's tone. "We all have questions. Let's concentrate on finding answers … calmly."

"But …"

"That brings the total number of known hostages to eighty-three," Batman quickly calculated as he called up more data from his tabletop data screen, gloved fingers typing at a blur.

"But it doesn't make sense! Why did he kidnap that little field trip if he were really after more important prey all along?" Kyle puzzled aloud.

"More important, Green Lantern?" Aquaman demanded, half rising from his seat.

"Uh, not that diplomats are any better or more, um, than, uh, schoolk-"

"Perhaps the children were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time," Diana speculated, saving Kyle from his latest outbreak of foot-in-mouth disease. He shot her a grateful look.

"An opportunity seized?" Superman considered, tilting his head. "The kidnapping, and the nature in which it occurred, caught the immediate attention of the media and the public, particularly the_ American _public. What better way to command attention and establish a threatening presence that the UN – and the President – would take seriously?"

"Not to mention, like, say, _us_," muttered Flash.

"It's a throwing down of a gauntlet if I've ever seen one, and Luthor's certainly not one to ignore something on this scale."

"Uh, speak of the devil, Supes, and he will appear," Plastic Man interrupted from the monitor console against the wall, his sunglasses having morphed into the patented Secret Service style of eyewear, " 'least in the guise of our illustrious Prez, 'cuz looks like we've got incoming from ole Baldy hisself!"

Kyle groaned and Superman's jaw clenched.

"Peachy."

Even Batman raised his brows at the uncharacteristic remark. Superman caught the look and sighed. "All right, let's get the lambasting over with. Put him through, Eel."

"Can't we just say the transmission got scrambled like eggs shinier than his hea .." Plas broke off at the look. "You got it, Blue."

The screen sizzled to life, and Lex Luthor's glowering visage immediately filled it.

"Justice League of America," he began with preamble, ever so slightly emphasizing the 'America' in the name, "you're now no doubt aware of the most recent outrage this … this Ayestrom character has perpetrated against several sovereign nations, including our own. These cowardly attacks against and abductions of both our allies and ourselves must be brought to a halt." Luthor paused for effect. "Despite your apparent inability to protect our people from these ongoing assaults," he continued as several Leaguers bristled, "I am hereby informing you, as the Commander-in-Chief of the United States of America, that you are being assigned the highest priority mission: put to an end this madman's reign of terror once and for all. I trust you will succeed … eventually."

_Oh, yes, Lex, we're very aware of our less than stellar record with Ayestrom so far, thank you_, Superman thought, but said nothing aloud.

Luthor glanced imperiously over them all, and then zeroed in on Superman, and smiled. It wasn't a pleasant sight.

"I don't want a repeat of the attack on Metropolis or of the abduction and murders in New York. These terrorist incursions of our territory will certainly not continue. America _must_ be protected. Is that understood?"

"And other locales on the globe are beneath your notice?" Aquaman asked pointedly, voice barely refraining from a growl.

"They have their own resources, I'm sure. You will ensure that you safeguard your country first and foremost."

"Despite our title, Mr. President," Wonder Woman said, steel in her voice, "we are an international organization. And not all of us are citizens of your nation. You do realize that, of course."

Luthor smiled thinly. "Of course. But I am intimately familiar with your team's original mandate, and will hold your 'organization' - and its name - to its letter." He leaned back and surveyed them narrowly. "You will report directly to my office on your investigative progress. I want to hear about your every plan, every idea, every contact, and about every altercation with the enemy. Are we clear on this, Superman?" His stare intensified. "Or must I send notes?"

Superman, with an effort of will, refrained from saying the first thing that popped into his head. Seeing his expression, Batman cleared his throat.

"And what, precisely, will U.S. and UN forces be doing to contribute to the resolution of this situation, _Mr_. President?" Batman met Luthor's glare directly.

"Besides, we mean, getting in our way, referring to us as 'the Long John Brigade' behind our backs, and choking all involved with the oh so insidious forces of _bureaucracy_?" Flash muttered, but audibly.

Luthor's face, if possible, darkened even further.

"All available resources are being directed to focus on locating Ayestrom's whereabouts as we speak, with the intent of eradicating the threat he represents to _all_ citizens and nations of Earth. And this office itself will not rest until this megalomaniac is ground to du-"

"And the hostages?" Superman asked mildly.

Luthor paused in mid-breath, and stared back at Superman with lidded eyes.

"International terrorism will not be curried – or indeed tolerated – in any way whatsoever. On this, my European, African, and Asian counterparts most wholeheartedly agree."

"I very much doubt the parents of those innocent schoolchildren would," Wonder Woman said softly, but her words rang clearly in the room.

"_If_ the JLA is having any difficulty with the concept of taking this ... this super-terrorist out, I strongly suggest you inform me _now_," Luthor said coldly. "We will find someone else less … squeamish for the job. And considering the botch job you've all managed thus far, perhaps a more competent team can be commissioned to head the task force. Contrary to popular belief, you're not the only game in town."

"Was that an actual insult?" Plastic Man asked incredulously, on his head appearing a tall, cone-shaped dunce cap. "A_ put-down_? From our very own esteemed highest elected official?"

At Luthor's glance of irritation, J'onn J'onzz finally spoke.

"You have doubtless been made aware, Mr. President, that several recent attacks have now been orchestrated directly against League personnel." Luthor set his jaw, didn't glance at Superman, and finally gave a reluctant nod. "Even if we were to officially withdraw from this conflict, which I reiterate will not happen –" everyone nodded in assent, some furiously, some simply, "- for reasons yet unknown, Ayestrom, whomever he might be, seems to be particularly drawn to us."

"Or perhaps simply amused by us," Aquaman smiled thinly, running a finger down his razor-edged hook.

"Let us hope to the contrary," J'onn continued placidly. "Nevertheless, we are already involved too deeply to disengage, even were it our collective will."

"Fine," snapped Luthor. "The League is being asked to take point in this international, anti-Ayestrom endeavor. The United Nations and the Pentagon are jointly commanding the operation. You will be backed by every conceivable UN and American authority on hand, including other metahuman organizations." He gave them all a forced smile. "It is only out of your reputation that you are being granted as much free rein on this as you are. I not only expect results, but to hear about them promptly … and more professionally." Luthor stiffly nodded his head a fraction, cold contempt still visible in his eyes, a good measure of which he reserved for the silently watching Superman as he ended the call. "Good hunting." He looked like he was pulling teeth as he said it. "Oval Office out."

The screen winked off. The table itself seemed to tense even further, if that was possible.

"This just gets better and better," Wally groaned. "Now we've even got Luthor on our backs."

Superman sighed deeply. "When haven't we?"

"Yeah, well, guess you would know."

"Obviously," Batman observed, "Luthor's priorities are not necessarily our priorities."

"But as much as I hate to say it, our goals are the same," Superman said, somewhat wryly. He looked thoughtfully at the others. "And we may have the glimmerings of a plan, if what our 'source' told us is true."

"Only if your 'source' hasn't spilled to his master about spilling to _you_," Aquaman warned. "Otherwise, Ayestrom will have already packed up his base, along with any hostages he has in custody."

"I think I may be of some help there, Aquaman," a clear voice suddenly broke in as a two-way uplink instantly activated into the war room.

"I take it you've managed to confirm our mercenary informant's testimony, Oracle," Superman said warmly. "And conveniently timed too."

"I aim to please, Superman," came Oracle's reply, a smile evident in her voice.

"Down to business," Batman broke in. "What have you learned?"

"And hello to you too, Boss. Well, firstly, the merc was definitely telling the truth about location."

"Looks like old Bats has got some competition in the sleuthing category of his job description," Flash whispered to Kyle. "Only she's got a leg up on him, huh? And I'd bet a way shapelier one too."

"In the eye of the beholder, man, as they say."

"What're you, '_bat_ting' for the other team now?" Flash smirked.

"No! No, I was just, _no_, I mean, well, there's fair and there's ..."

"Relax! You've gotta cut down on the java, GL, geez. 'Sides, Robbie tells me she's _hot_."

Superman winced slightly but saw that none of the others had overheard the_ sotto voce_ commentary. He decided to carefully ignore it.

"Elaborate, please," Batman was suddenly ordering, and Superman blinked, but already the Dark Knight was swivelling back to his own console.

_I definitely_ need _some sleep_, Superman thought tiredly, and surreptitiously rubbed at his forehead. _But I ... I can't ..._

"My network's discovered plenty of fairly well-covered up – but questionable – activity in Amsterdam, Den Haag, Rotterdam. and Almere, as well as in Luxembourg, of all places," Oracle reported. "There're clear signs of a Black Ops concealment of some sort. Local authorities and Interpol are peripherally aware of these underground goings-on, but according to my Belgian connection, they're pretty much convinced it's a new black market drug ring. The Dutch authorities are reporting major activity, and my 'Net Alerts're lit up like a Christmas tree in the whole region, from Brussels and Rotterdam straight through to Groningen. My ticket says we've unearthed at least a couple of Ayestrom's lairs, maybe even his main headquarters, if we account for all the traffic in and out of there."

"_Dam_ it all, people, only a _rotter_ like Ayestrom would bed down in a place with a name like that place!" Plas chortled. "And they say tilting at the windmills in Holland is passé ..."

Kyle elbowed him at the looks being slanted their way, only to have his elbow stuck in the malleable shoulder of his teammate.

"I suggest you move quickly, guys," Oracle was continuing, wisely ignoring Plastic Man, who was currently morphing enormous wooden shoes onto his feet and knocking them together on the tabletop. "My profile program's analysis of the recent attacks and abductions indicates extreme psychological instability and, well, unbelievable egomaniacism at play here."

"No kidding," Kyle snorted, yanking his elbow back out of Plastic Man's side. Flash made a disgusted face at him, and Kyle shrugged helplessly as Plastic Man's middle turned into a Van Gogh painting.

"No telling how long those hostages have," Aquaman said, leaning impatiently back in his chair. "We need to get moving on this."

"I'm downloading the three best possible locales to your mainframe," Oracle answered. "Of course I'll keep you posted on any updated information I get. In fact, should be receiving some new Intel any second now, so I'll keep my ear to the ground. Please let me know in whatever other way I can be of assistance."

"Well done, Oracle," Superman said. "Our thanks."

"What I'm here for! Good luck to you."

"Yeah," Kyle said under his breath. "Sounds like we're gonna need it."

"Oracle out."

"So it's confirmed as much as it can be," Aquaman commented, shifting restlessly. "What's your plan, Superman?"

"Hey, give 'im a dime, he made a rhyme." Plas shrivelled under Aquaman's fierce glare. "Okay, okay, so you're _not _a poet and didn't know it." He extended a flower that had sprung up from his hand. "Tulip?"

"The plan ... well, it's none too original, I'm afraid," Superman responded, with a slight lifting of his shoulders and a slightly sheepish expression gracing his face. "But before we're able to initiate any drastic action against this enemy, we need to ensure we won't further endanger the hostages, be they students or ambassadors, or anyone else."

"That's a given," Wonder Woman was in full accordance, her sapphire eyes sparking with the thought of innocents in danger. "We proceed with due care."

"We require rock-solid data," Superman elaborated. "We need to be absolutely certain of the exact location in which the hostages are being held and their present condition. Except for seeing the one telecast - and I hate to admit it - we can't even be certain that they are still even alive." He swallowed audibly. "But we must consider that possibility, grim as it is."

The League members looked at each other for a long moment.

Superman glanced down at the table and then up again, determinedly continuing. "I also submit that further knowledge of Ayestrom himself, and strategic information on his bases, those weapons of his - and I don't mind admitting that they pack one hell of a whallop - as well as troop constitution, size, and movements, would prove invaluable to us for our eventual plan of attack." He sighed. "Frankly, we need more data."

Heads were nodding around the table.

"Information gathering would be … wise, at this stage," J'onn said, watching Superman.

"Yes. Who_ is_ Ayestrom?" Superman's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Is he a metahuman himself as reports suggest? How much of Europe does he truly have under his control? How many other metahumans are now working for him? Why did he go to such effort to kidnap foreign dignitaries from beneath their governments' noses? Why did he take the school kids? And are his demands to the UN legitimate? We need to know these things."

"I concur," Batman said, cowled eyes narrowed calculatingly. "We've been working far too much in the dark. And this reaping mission is accomplished through …?"

"Reconnaissance," Superman grinned. "Of course. Something in which _you_ specialize, I believe." He cocked his head at Batman, the corner of his mouth lifting.

"Infiltration may prove a challenge, but still well within the realms of possibility," Batman allowed, already thinking ahead. "Once the main base is verified by Oracle's choice team, we go in."

"Precisely my thought."

"You mean," Flash interrupted the two, attempting to follow their quick line, "We figure out just where ole 'Strommy's bedding down, drop a spy in, who then comes out, we load up on all the juicy Ayestrommy gossip, then coordinate an attack plan using the inside info to wipe his smarmy butt off the face of the planet?"

Batman stared at him coolly. "Anyone else require a summary?"

Wally flushed, and Kyle patted his arm consolingly.

"Glad it wasn't me, man."

Arthur and Diana were nodding slowly, warrior hands playing restlessly with weapons, but J'onn abruptly folded his arms and stared hard at Superman with unblinking eyes.

"It's a decent plan," Aquaman said grudgingly.

"Glad you approve," Batman said dryly.

"Although it's not without a certain element of unnecessary risk."

Superman began to shrug. "I disagree. It's an acceptable ri-"

"Risk? RISK?" Plastic Man broke in, leaping to his feet. "And is it not the noble intention herein that proves our strategy extraordinaire worth such risk? Is it not, in fact, _why_ we each don our armour of brightly coloured garb every single day to do battle against the oppression enscaled by just such as Ayestrom?" Plastic Man's upper body transformed into a huge eagle's head, feathers sprouting out of his lower half as he perched one scaly leg on the back of his chair, other claw on the table, lifting a bold and heroic profile towards the others. "Do we not give our all for this great country which we have sworn to defend? Nay, for the very _world _itself?"

"Oh, please, save us from the matinee serial rhetoric!" said Flash, rolling his eyes, and blowing at a feather that tickled his nose.

Plastic Man stood straighter, both claws squarely on the table. "Do we not, in fact, _scoff_ at minor considerations such as _RISK_? Hah! I laugh at risk!"

"Oh, brother," Kyle said, putting his hand over his eyes, watching Aquaman get up from his chair with a black scowl. " You're in for it now, birdbrain."

"That's enough, O'Brian," Batman said coldly. "We have little time to waste on either your incessant need for attention, or your version of 'stand-up' comedy."

Kyle blinked. "Did _Batman _just crack a joke?" He asked unbelievingly of Flash.

"Just a tiny pun, but a definitive one. Wow. Who's taking notes for posterity?" Wally looked around.

"And exactly whom would we send on this purportedly _risky_ mission of espionage?" J'onn asked bluntly, gazing pointedly at Superman, who met his look calmly.

"The individuals with the greatest chance of success, J'onn. Naturally." He raised his eyebrows inquiringly. "You agree?"

"Then I volunteer myself as a candidate for the mission," said J'onn at once. "My stealth skills are rather formidable."

"Inarguably. And of course your offer is appreciated. However, before you volunteer, don't forget that Ayestrom may anticipate our move, particularly if that merc commander ever revealed his betrayal."

"He would have contingencies in place against us as a natural precaution even if he doesn't have a clue," Diana added, and Kyle blinked again at her use of the colloquialism. "At least, if he's any sort of tactician at all."

"Yeah, well, look what _we've_ got," Flash settled his shoulders. "A heckuva lot of pooled talent right here in the room. Between super-speed squared, and Bats' brains, and J'onn's telepathy, and magic lassoes … well, the list does go on."

"And on," Kyle contributed, his Ring bringing to life a list of powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men, hanging in mid-air, scrolling downwards in elaborate calligraphy.

"We could scope out ole 'Strommy's bathroom without him being any the wiser."

"Yeah, but would you really want to?"

"His personal hygiene regime could yield some pretty important clues," Plas interjected in all seriousness, preening his white head feathers with a wing. "You'd be surprised by just how often I've found keen restroom observation total treasure troves of info on lots of my cases."

"Definitely a case of T.M.I, Plas," Kyle stared in horror. "Who hires you, anyways?"

"We won't need to stoop that low," Flash said dismissively. "We're the Justice League, after all. We're dignified." He eyed Plastic Man, still preening his plumage. "Some of the time."

"The JLA is _it_, man. Can't beat the real thing!" Kyle high-fived Wally. "'Strom's not even close to being a match for all of us together!"

"So what're we waiting for?" Flash zoomed out of the room and was back before anyone else had even taken a breath. A steaming cup of coffee rested on the table in front of each member. "Let's get a buzz on, and then go kick some mercenary butt!"

Superman gave a tolerant smile, but an unnameable worry nagged at the back of his mind, and he couldn't bring himself to feel the confidence the two younger team members obviously did. He glanced down and gratefully took a sip of the hot beverage before him.

"Okay, gang," Oracle's electronically enhanced voice suddenly cut in, "I've word from the inside. Black Canary and Huntress have just confirmed the Amsterdam base as the most likely locale for Ayestrom's main lair."

Everyone perked up at the news.

"All right, B.C. and 'Tress!" Plastic Man whooped, whipping back into human shape. "Intimidation plus prowess plus beauty plus brains equals _Whoa Mamas_!"

"I'll be sure to relay that, Plastic Man," Oracle answered dryly.

"Um … maybe can you keep this just between us?" squeaked Plas, his feet morphing into a unicycle which he proceeded to backpedal furiously.

"Wise man."

"That certainly settles one difficulty, at any rate."

"True, Diana," Oracle hedged, "but you guys better hear this." She drew a breath, and almost unconsciously, everyone leaned forward. "The Birds also reported some less than fantastic news: there seems to be absolutely _no_ way anyone can get close enough to glean any info of value. That place is purportedly tighter than a steel drum." She paused, and Batman grunted, typing even more quickly at his computer. "It doesn't look promising. High resolution sensors are apparently set everywhere throughout the bases. And I mean _every_where. I haven't even _seen _anything like this before." There was the sound of a tongue clicking against teeth. "According to Canary's informant, once a metahuman is even marginally close to secure areas, a power signature is instantly registered and relayed straight to monitors within the base." She hesitated, as if studying something before her. "Wow. These are sensors unlike anything I've ever even heard of, people. They're amazingly sensitive. I don't think even invisibility would go undetected."

J'onn frowned.

"Uh oh. That doesn't sound good ..." Flash murmured.

"And without the use of powers," Oracle finished, the frustration clear in her voice, "well, security's stronger than the Watchtower's vacuum sealant._No one_'d make it in unseen, let alone back out again."

"Great. How will we find out about the hostages still alive if he's booby-trapped his own base?" asked Wally rather plaintively, throwing up his hands.

"JLA Detector Devices, Activate!" Kyle jipped lightly and rather lamely, and this time no one smiled.

The room was ominously silent for several heavy moments, until it was at last broken by the deep, measured words of the Dark Knight.

"A not ... insurmountable obstacle," he said, eyes hooded. "In our case."

"How do you mean, B-"

They followed his gaze as it travelled to Superman, who had been sitting silent and motionless for some time, as if waiting. As everyone stared at him, one eyebrow rose, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a tiny, humourless smile.

"Ooooohhhh," Kyle breathed, slapping himself lightly on the cheek chidingly. "That's right."

"Yeah. Forgot all about that. Those. _Them_." Flash shook his head.

Superman briefly lifted a shoulder. "Most people do."

"It's an advantage we can use," Batman said. "It would, however, be prudent to not underestimate Ayestrom, and what _he_ has or has not forgotten."

"I know it," Superman acknowledged. "But it doesn't change what we have to try."

"No. It doesn't," Batman agreed, but he didn't look happy.

Nor did J'onn, who folded his arms and looked daggers at Superman.

"You knew. All along you have known that you would be the one who goes in."

"We're all going, J'onn," Superman said patiently. "Not one of us can afford to sit back and simply monitor this mess. In fact, part of the plan is that we cover all angles, the way a good journalist would." He caught them all in his glance. "To that end I propose we place a team in each of the other suspected European sites ... and set up a safe fall-back and rendezvous base. Not neglecting, of course, to formulate a strong Plan B in case things go awry." He smiled briefly. "Best laid plans of mice and men, and all that."

"All well and good, Kal-El, but _you_ will be the one playing the mouse in a very dangerous cat's lair."

Superman shook his head. "You heard Luthor. We're all doing that. I'll merely be playing the role of the Point Mouse. Spy number one, so to speak. It's really not my forté, so maybe I'll learn a thing or two about how the other half lives." He grinned at Batman, who did not return it. He sobered, although a tiny light still danced in his eyes. "I promise not to fall for any obvious cheese."

J'onn looked about as amused as Batman did. Superman's face softened.

"I appreciate your concern, J'onn, but you really needn't be so protective. I'll be very careful."

"It's not flawless, but it's a solid idea," Aquaman inserted before J'onn could continue. "It's even safer in some respects because he won't have to maneuver too close to any sensitive areas to pick up actual information, the way any one of the rest of us would have to. That will enhance the safety margin. Good."

"And it's also probable that you will be able to detect these sensors well in advance, and therefore avoid them," Diana added, though her face had tensed noticeably.

"In addition," Oracle chimed in, "if what I hear is correct, your command of nearly every Earth language could come in extremely handy. It's reportedly a linguistic nightmare down there."

Superman smiled. "That's the plan."

J'onn sighed dramatically, and steepled his fingers disapprovingly.

"I see that I am outvoted. Very well, then. I suppose we all do what we must, and for me that is to surrender with dignity."

He and Superman locked gazes, and as Superman dipped his head in acknowledgement, Kyle couldn't help wonder if there had been some unheard message communicated between the two.

"Such a worrywart, J'onn," Wally clapped a hand to J'onn's shoulder. "Better be careful yourself, or you'll form an ulcer in your old age."

"I am already four hundred and twenty two Earth years of age," J'onn answered calmly. "When exactly should I expect this … ulcer?"

Flash blinked and let his hand fall. "Uh, never mind."

For several minutes, the League members continued to debate back and forth, beginning the chaotic and creative process of a group plan formation. Large maps of the area in question were thrown up on the screens, and stations and movements were coordinated with Oracle and the Birds of Prey, as well as several League reserve members planetside.

For the first time in a very long while, the dominant feelings of helplessness and frustration began to transform into ones of determination and hope. With their new information, firm teamwork, and a clear plan of action, Kyle began to feel, as most of them seemed to, that they now stood a fighting chance of stopping this terrible new enemy. It wouldn't be too late for either the hostages, or the world. Not if the Justice League had anything to say about it.

And Kyle would bank anything on the say of his team. Anything.

Or so he thought.


	4. Stratagem Part 2

Thank you to the very kind support and encouragement from readers, both private and public. It's more appreciated than you can possibly know. :-) I'll continue to respond to any questions or comments that folks have. (I only wish there were a way to have my replies to be posted publicly, as I've always found such meta writing about fics interesting, and I'm sure I'm not alone!) I hope you enjoy this conclusion to Part 3! Thanks!

******JLA**

******"Necessary Force"**

******By Paxwolf**

Part III:

******"Stratagem"**  
(2nd Half)

**  
**

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**Disclaimer:** The _Justice League _and all associated characters are owned by DC Comics and Time Warner, and nothing other than fun and satisfaction is being earned by the posting of this story.

Thanks, Credits, and other Notes of Interest are posted at the beginning of Parts One and Two. (and will only be posted every other 'chapter'.)

**********Author Note:** This was the part that actually began this whole Epic for me. The very earliest bit I wrote, as a little doodle of sorts on the back of an ad for a ComicCon, was a smattering of corny dialogue still mired in the middle of this very part. And the rest grew on like a cancer after that. :-) Well, it was actually a fun challenge to try and craft a whole story from a single line that was rather a bad pun! -

I'd also played a bit with Kyle's backstory here, as at the time I wrote this, not much had been revealed by TPTB at DC about his family. I've decided to keep that bit intact for the purposes of this story, but you may wish to consider those aspects a little AU if you prefer strictly canonical references. :-)

**********"Stratagem" _concluded_**  


******  
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******K**yle jerked up with a start, realizing he had zoned out for several moments.

He shook his head hard, and reached to take a gulp of his coffee. It wouldn't do for anyone to catch him daydreaming during such a crucial conference ofstrategizing , after all. Especially one dealing with this particularly nasty new menace. Fortunately, no one had noticed his brief lapse in attention. Apparently his mask had more uses than one, thank god

"I recommend against keeping Luthor apprised at present," Batman was saying. "We'll feed him some partial facts to keep him and the Pentagon happy, but too much of the plan is reliant upon secrecy. Neither the government nor the UN Security Council are exactly subtle organizations. We can't afford a leak."

"Doubtless. We'll inform the President - and company - of Ayestrom's location only _after_ we've found out what's what," Superman nodded back. "With any luck it'll only be a matter of hours before we confirm what we need to."

Batman's voice was clipped. "Yes."

"This is a bit scary," Wally muttered to Kyle out of the side of his mouth.

"What? The whole double-o-seven deal?" Kyle said, trying to appear as if he'd been listening all along.

"No. That Supes and Bats are agreeing with each other so much. It ain't natural."

"Huh. Yeah, you're right," Kyle added hastily, seeing the odd look Wally was giving him. "Usually they're good for a show, right, and we with our front row seats."

"We oughtta sell tickets sometime. We'd clean up!"

"Meanwhile," Diana was continuing, looking at Batman, "perhaps we can further interrogate the man that Dinah apprehended. He might possess additional important information which he has yet to divulge." Her eyes narrowed. "I'm certain he could tell us quite a bit about Ayestrom."

"In that his followers seem unnaturally loyal to their 'lord', but are also - rather incongruently - money-oriented, greedy, and cowardly, we can perhaps turn his own tables against him," Aquaman remarked with satisfaction, leaning back in his chair.

Kyle suddenly grinned. "It'll be like that old proverb! An eye for an 'Aye'."

"_That_'s a proverb?" asked Plastic Man. "Heh. Thought it was a recipe for revenge or somesuch. Guess I'm a little rusty with my Bible-readin'."

"It's as good as one. I particularly appreciate the rest of the quotation, as hopefully we shall soon see a tooth or two as well," Aquaman muttered, clenching his metal fist, the sharp blades of his hook retracting.

"As in ... finally showing our own teeth, or knocking theirs down their throats?" Kyle asked.

Aquaman gave a slow grin, eyes hooded. "As in both."

"Amen to that," Flash answered, scowling a little himself as he folded his arms across his chest in a rare gesture of stillness. Kyle glanced at him, a little startled.

"You do realize, of course," Batman said, gazing measuringly at Superman, "that Ayestrom will no doubt be prepared for likely metahuman interference, particularly _League_ interference. And I reiterate, possibly even for you personally. The majority of people may overlook them, but your enhanced sensory abilities are not exactly the best kept secrets on the planet."

Superman rested his chin on his knuckles, looking up at the screen with serious eyes.

"I'm aware. It's not like I think this is going to be a walk in the park. And I understand the irony perfectly."

"Do you?" There was an unmistakable edge to Batman's voice.

"That it seems to be impossible to infiltrate the base without special abilities, but that those very same abilities make it nigh impossible to not get caught doing so?" Superman raised his brows. "Of course. My senses might get a workout, and they're not foolproof. But it's a risk we'll just have to take. Along, naturally, with every conceivable and sensible precaution." He stared steadily back at Batman. "I have no intention of jeopardizing those hostages by unnecessarily jeopardizing myself." A half-hearted smile flickered briefly over his lips.

Batman studied him, then gave a sharp nod and turned back to the computer.

"I still think that he should have some sort of backup down there," Diana insisted. "I _know_, the sensors," she added when Flash opened his mouth, "but surely we can find a way. J'onn, with his shape-shifting ability, would still be ideal. It is regrettable that we cannot risk his telepathic link, but he could almost go in as a piece of Kal's _clothing_, for Hera's sake. Or you, Batman. Stealth _is_ one of your vaunted specialties, is it not?" She looked challengingly at Batman, who turned away from the console to stare moodily at her. "And you, of all of us, would not set off any sensor registers."

Batman set his jaw, but made no reply.

J'onn's calm gaze considered Diana, and then settled on Superman. "I wish, as you know, that it were possible to accompany him, Diana. Particularly in his current condition."

"Exactly. While none of us are in tiptop shape, here he is trying to corner the market on self-sacrifice!"

"No one else stands a better chance."

"That may well be, but I do not feel that he should proceed on his own in this instance."

"Kal-El is quite adamant on this plan, with excellent reason, and yet I too have my doubts if he will be able to achieve our goal in his present state."

"Hello," Superman interrupted. "I am still in the room, you know."

Kyle muffled a laugh.

"But I could not avoid these sensors that Oracle describes, nor maintain my assumed shape while he is at speed," J'onn continued, now studiously avoiding looking at Superman. "Besides which, as we agreed, I shall be needed inside the reserve base until the hostages' location is confirmed." He looked down.

Superman rose and placed a hand on J'onn's arm, casting a grateful look at Diana.

"And too valuable there. _Both_ of you." He gave a sudden smile. "And it's not like I'm made of porcelain, you know. The media didn't nickname me 'The Man of China' for a reason. I'll be fine."

"Didn't never think he looked Asian," joked Plastic Man. "Though I hear he's got mighty peculiar tastes in martial arts movies, manga, and anime ..."

"And my 'condition', by the way, is back to normal," Superman added, not even really hearing O'Brian's weak attempt at humour. "Right as rain, as my Pa would say."

J'onn said nothing.

"And _my_ accompanying him is out of the question," Batman noted, also casting a veiled glance at Diana, who sighed. "As we all know why." He looked back at Superman and straightened. "You will not be alone for long, however. Oracle will remain in constant communiqué, for as long as possible, using our own enhanced technology, which has to be at least marginally better than what the enemy employs." His gaze swept the table. "And, of course, the League will there in minutes at your call when things get dicey."

"'_When_', he says, not '_if_'," Kyle said in a stage whisper to Wally. "How I love an optimist."

"You will have to hold out on your own until then, Superman," Batman finished. His glance seemed carefully shuttered.

"And I will," Superman answered, closing his eyes. "One way or another, with or without backup, this sociopath must be stopped. No more people, no more children, no more _any_one will be victimized. _No more_." He opened his eyes again, his steely gaze glowing deadly crimson for a split second before softening once more to its normal brilliant blue as he gazed back at his teammates. "I will do … I will _risk_ whatever it takes to bring Ayestrom to justice, and failing that, to bring him down."

"As say we all," Diana asserted, voice soft, quietly and strongly executing a warrior's salute.

The Justice League of America all looked at one another, and nodded in solidarity.

"But hey, guys and gal, what're we worryin' on about anyways?" Plastic Man frizzled into the solemn mood. "We're the infamous J.L. of _A._, for Pete's sake! Whomever this proverbial Pete might be. We're like global Mounties. _Sans_ maple leaf. We always get our man!"

"Not always without casualties, Plastic Man," Diana said soberly, and Flash nodded, expression suddenly somber, both thinking of Barry and Hal, and Aztek, and Ice, and the many losses the League had suffered over the years.

"Okay, but no, really, why're we even moanin' on about Supes' safety for?" Plas hurtled on as one of his ears enlarged dramatically with a huge earplug stuck in the centre, turning the literally 'deaf ear' towards Wonder Woman. "He's 'da Man o' Steel, the Big Red S, the Metropolis Marvel, the Big Blue Boy Scout, the Man of Tomorrow, yadda, yadda, yadda." Superman sighed and Green Lantern rolled his eyes. "In other words, kinda, maybe, sorta _super_! Does a tiny little under-appreciated word like, oh, say, 'invulnerable' mean nothing any more amongst all this cheese and whine?"

Plastic Man's limbs coalesced into a truly horrid-sounding violin.

"Just because he's incredibly _dense _doesn't make him completely invincible, Plas!" Wally exclaimed, then stopped short, cheeks reddening as he took in Superman's raised eyebrow.

"Nice one, motormouth," Kyle jibed.

"Um, that came out all wrong. I meant his _body_ …"

"Keep digging, you'll reach the dark side of the moon eventually ..."

"The point being," Arthur ground out, "is that _none_ of us, child or not, JLA or not, Kryptonian or not, is completely safe from this madman. He's already amply demonstrated his degree of power. And we are _not_ fighting small fry here."

"That's unfortunately true," said Diana with a small sigh. "It's been measured, in fact, right off the P.M. scale." She threw a quick look at Superman, whose expression was impassive.

"You just weren't on the front lines to witness it," Kyle said bitingly to Plastic Man. "Where were _you_?"

"I was … doing my part," Plas hedged, shrinking his limbs back to normal contours. "Not 'zackly easy, ya know, to manage untold screaming gadgets and quadrillions of frantic 911 phone calls up here on my ownsome when the whole freaking world's going to hell in a handbasket ..."

"Regardless of who was where," Batman took control of the discussion effortlessly, "the fact remains that Ayestrom and his organization are extremely powerful. We do not dare take them on as individuals. It must be as a whole that we will face him. As a_ team_. And even that," he added darkly, "may not be enough."

"And yet we dare do nothing less," Superman interjected. "Not if there's any hope of rescuing those kids, their teachers, and the ambassadors. Not to mention safeguarding the Earth from his constant threats and bringing this madman to justice. They're counting on us."

Superman's eyes locked onto Batman's for a long, fragile moment, but Batman merely gazed back and offered nothing further. Superman sighed and glanced down, running his hand wearily across his forehead.

Most didn't see the slight tremble in the hand as it moved, or the sheen of sweat on his brow. Batman did. He frowned.

"Well, I can't deny I'd hoped there'd be better suggestions, but we go ahead with what we've got." Superman looked up at them all. "It's our – and the hostages'- best chance."

"Fine," Diana finally said unhappily, echoed by J'onn's and Arthur's own frustrated sentiments.

"You will, however, help me create an appropriate disguise, I hope?" Superman suddenly asked Batman, who stared back at him narrowly.

"A wise strategy," J'onn commented, approving at last.

"Cliché or not, sometimes discretion _is_ the better part of valour," Superman said with a glint in his eye as he flicked two fingers against his temple in a mini-salute to the Dark Knight.

"It is gratifying to see at least some of my methods rubbing off on you," Batman said, the corners of his own mouth twitching nearly invisibly, unobservable to anyone but Superman.

"Especially considering that at times the reverse occurs," Superman returned.

"On the rare occasion, perhaps. But if it suits my present purpose, who am I to gainsay any effective technique?"

"Unpredictability can be quite beneficial in our line of work."

"Throwing one's opponent into a state of confusion …"

" … and therefore outmaneuvering him in the process."

"Exactly my strategy."

"Should work for Ayestrom too. He's fairly powerful, of course, with some pretty fancy equipment, but not omnipotent. Or even psychic."

"But extremely arrogant."

"Got to hand him that."

"It could be used against him."

"It's been the downfall of tyrants before him."

"What are they going on about?" Kyle asked Wally from the corner of his mouth.

"Sometimes it's like those two have a language all their own," Flash answered, amused. "Especially when they're arguing. Steel refers to it as 'la langue fine du monde.'"

"Excusez-moi?" Kyle asked, mystified.

"'World's Finest Lingo'," Diana translated, eyeing the pair with interest as they began to discuss the particulars of Superman's anticipated disguise as if having forgotten the rest of them were there.

"Well, pardon _my_ French, but can we pleeeeeze stick to the damn subject?" pleaded Plastic Man. "I'd really like to make my not-_in_significant contribution to the battle plan sometime today."

"You?" Aquaman snorted. "Eel O'Brian. Named for one of the most duplicitous creatures of the sea. And we're going to trust you to watch our backs?"

"Hey! I wouldn't go round so glibly insulting the Irishman name like that, your _Majesty._ O'Brians take tremendous pride in their heritage and have a temper to match." He morphed into a giant bottle filled with an orangish-yellow powder. "It's not like I got named after an ethnic_ spice_ or anything from down the ole family line."

"Tell me again, Batman, why this monkey is in the League?" The Atlantean king asked, throwing his hands up into the air.

"Arthur …" Diana, ever the peacemaker, laid a hand on Aquaman's shoulder.

"And by the way, Fish-King," Plas said softly, below everyone's threshold of hearing. Almost everyone's. "Some eels have quite the electric sting. As you should remember."

Superman darted a sudden, concerned look at O'Brian, who winced at the glance, and then shrugged, whistling innocently at him.

"We all have our place," J'onn was answering Aquaman benignly as he moved from the table to the computer console, "and each our valued role."

"Yeah," muttered Kyle under his breath as he checked the duty roster Batman's console spat out, "and mine seems to be glorified errand boy."

"Nope," Wally put in as he raced to a weapons locker. "'Fraid I outrank you there, Rookie." He whizzed around Kyle in a circle of red blur as he stockpiled his weapons on the conference table. "That's _my_ job."

"Just great. Out-brassed for even gopher duty."

"Cease your moaning, Green Lantern," Aquaman commanded. "Or haven't you noticed that Batman's been beckoning you and grows impatient?"

Kyle jumped, feeling the colour rush to his cheeks, and twisted to face the Bat.

"Ooohh, now you're in for it," Plas commented as snidely as Kyle's question had been earlier. "Have loads of fun emulating a Bat-pancake!"

Kyle hurried over, too anxious to think of a suitable comeback.

"We do not have time to waste, Lantern," Batman said with his trademark glower. "You know what's at stake here."

"I'm really, _really_ sorry," Kyle's words tumbled out all over themselves before he could stop them. "I'm not usually so slow on the uptake, but what with all these Ayestromy-type crises, and me missing my deadlines galore at work all week as a result, and my sister and niece visiting me in New York for a while but me never being around and I think they're starting to think I lead a double life or something and I'm afrai-"

"Kyle," Superman cut his panicky tirade short, admonishing Batman with a look – and who else could get away with that? – Kyle wondered dizzyingly to himself as he drew in a breath at last and tried hard not to notice how Batman looked even more forbidding than usual. "Relax. Okay? We'll get this guy. But we could really use your help here. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Kyle answered Superman, taking another breath to steady his nerves. "Right. Okay. We'll get him." He noticed how Superman was eyeing him somewhat worriedly. "I'm good, I'm good. So, what can I do you for?"

"Well, actually, we could use a touch of your professional artistry."

"Oh?" He brightened and calmed down at the same time, suddenly intrigued and immensely flattered, but trying his utmost to appear nonchalant. The Big Two were actually asking _his_ advice?

"You design costumes and various outfits, am I right? For your fictional characters?"

"Uh huh," he managed oh so eloquently.

"Then you can contribute some ideas," Batman snapped, turning to tap at his screen. "What we need for Superman's disguise to be effective is _this_ …"

It didn't take long for Kyle to quickly become embroiled in the challenge.

The next hour was spent with all the core members of the League prepping their plan, their equipment and tools, and conferring together over any possible and preventable waylays. All too soon, the precious time ticked away. Finally, the battle preparations neared completion, and the iron butterflies in various super stomachs seemed to increase the intensity of their fluttering.

"Why oh why am I feeling even more nervous than usual?" Kyle confessed to Wally, looking at his teammates and trying to gauge if they were similarly influenced by the stress. "After all, this isn't our first crisis, and it isn't as if we haven't faced worse things. Giant alien starfish leap rather vividly to mind, and universe-hollowing forces of destruction, and time-travelling despots, and other-dimensional gods and demons, and so on and so forth …"

"Know what you mean," Flash agreed, disconcertingly solemn. "Some of our cases have had even more dire consequences should we have failed." He squeezed Kyle's forearm unexpectedly. "Yet this bastard seems more … I dunno. Scary, I guess. Awful. Indecent, even. Can't really 'splain it. It's ... he's ... just plain ... terrible."

"'Terror-_full_', is the better adjective, Flash m'man," Plastic Man's lips, far removed from the rest of his face, suddenly appeared between them. Then the rest of him pulled forward as if attached to a spring to the lips to slide into place beside them. "It's nerve-wrackingly weird, but I hear ya."

"Yeah. Maybe it is Ayestrom. He ... well, he kinda gives me the ... the heebie-jeebies," Kyle said softly, beginning to think hard about it, secretly wondering if his super-heroic courage had backed out of the nearest airlock while he was busy sorting out his mixed feelings.

"Monstrosity in its purest form," Superman suddenly answered him from right across the large room, just loudly enough that heads turned with a jerk. Then they all did a double-take at him, which he apparently failed to notice. "Believe me, Kyle, it's enough to give us _all_ the 'heebie-jeebies'."

Kyle stared a bit, although more at the comment out of nowhere than at the outfit. After all, he'd helped design it.

"There's just no escape from the all-hearing ear," Flash suppressed a grin, then his voice dropped off as he took in Superman's rather startling new appearance. "Gets me every time ..."

Batman stood beside his sometime partner, and Kyle could swear he looked almost proud of his handiwork. Even though Kyle had had a hand in the design, the practical application and effect on Superman upon donning it was something ... unexpected. If it had not been for his distinctive voice, and for the fact that they had been expecting him, Superman's own teammates would have had quite the hard time recognizing him. He looked as much the opposite of his usual self as a man could get without having a Martian's native shape-shifting ability.

"Uh, wow, great new look, Supes," Plastic Man remarked, eyes literally protruding from his head as he scanned Superman up and down. "Damn near revolting even, dare I say. Two thumbs way, _way_ down for you ever winning that super-hero beauty pageant now." Plastic Man's thumbs dragged along the floor.

"Ah, thank you," said Superman. "I think."

Kyle moved forward along with everyone else, and simply stared.

Superman's jet black hair was now iron grey and quite ragged, with long, straggly locks squirrelling over his newly lined and weathered forehead, tangled into a rough twist at the back of his neck. His fair, bronzed skin was now visibly darker, and not just from the dirt and creased-in grease. His normally clean cut chin and strong jaw were softened by whisker-covered jowls, and his mouth bore visible tobacco stains. Scar tissue stretched across the left side of his face from nose to ear, effectively disguising the prominent, high-planed cheekbones. Deep, folded-in bags under his eyes gave them an aged, sunken appearance.

Even his height seemed to have diminished, as if his very spine had collapsed vertebra by vertebra in on itself. His muscular shoulders were rounded forward, and mysteriously seemed to have lost some of their bulk. Bowed legs and a carefully-constructed club foot lent a noticeable limp as he began to hobble forward into the room, leaning heavily on a splintery, stained stick, obviously self-conscious of everyone's appraisal. His clothes were indescribably dirty: a worn and torn old uniform of a waste plant maintenance worker.

Kyle smiled. Oracle had done her research, and apparently a great many of the refugees hiding out under Ayestrom's 'protection' were former underground employees from the cities, and were purportedly in desperate straits. Superman certainly now looked the part.

Most convincingly, Superman's very body language and mannerisms were vastly different from the Man of Steel they knew.

"So that's how Clark Kent gets away with it," breathed Wally, staring, and Kyle silently agreed.

He'd thought even with heavy make-up they wouldn't be able to disguise Superman's natural physical endowments. But this shabby old guy before them wouldn't merit a second glance.

Perfect.

Then the 'shabby old guy' suddenly grinned at Wally's comment and the illusion was broken.

"It takes talent, to be sure," Superman laughed, breaking the grim and melancholic mood that had seemed to descend upon them all. "But that's just for my day job. This role might take a slight bit more acting finesse on my part, I fear."

The one thing Superman couldn't completely hide was that sparkling aura he seemed to unconsciously project, that irrepressible something that blazed forth and lit up whatever room he happened to be in, like a damped-down energy held in constant check, and which generally tended to set nerves all a-crackling. That was still there, sensed abstractly through the grime and abject humility of the wretched-looking creature before them.

And, of course, there were the eyes.

"You sure I can't come along?" Plastic Man said, transforming into a long toilet bowl brush and pressing himself into Superman's hand. "I could be a big help, don't you know ... never can tell where there's germs to eliminate ..."

"You should certainly fit in down amongst the dregs that purportedly dwell in the old factory sites of Ayestrom's lairs," Diana commented with an appraising nod. "Well done, Batman."

"And with no help at all from nobody me, natch," muttered Kyle to himself, turning away.

"Actually, it was a collaborative effort between all three of us," Superman acknowledged quite clearly. "With Green Lantern as our chief 'Disgust and Decay Dehabilitator'."

"Way to go, Kyle!" Wally thumped him on the back enthusiastically. "But, erm, don't you think you guys kind of outdid yourselves in the odour department? Phee-ew! Talk about _rank_!"

Flash waved his hand super fast in front of his face while Plas morphed his into a giant red and blue gas mask.

"We felt," Kyle said defensively, "that a certain lack of ... er, _hygiene_ might further prevent other 'dregs' in the place from uh, molesting him. Who knows what kind of lowlifes are down there?"

"I know, but _really_."

"Possessing an especially keen olfactory sense doesn't exactly make it a picnic for _me_, either," Superman said rather mournfully, gingerly sniffing at what only with great charity be called clothing. "Trust me."

"Ah, the sacrifices for the cause," Diana said, fighting a losing battle to keep her face straight. "Perhaps you should have allowed J'onn to go in your place after all."

"Not if I had to smell as fragrant as _that_," J'onn immediately replied. "Only the strong can survive such adversity, I'm told, and Kal-El has, after all, greater strength than do I."

"Thanks," Superman said, throwing what could only be called a dirty look at J'onn.

"Believe you me, he's strong right now," Plas said, words muffled through his gas mask. "Very strong."

"You may have to do something about his eyes," Aquaman noted in a business-like manner, ignoring both the smell and the banter as he strode up to Superman and looked him over critically.

"My eyes."

"They stand out. Glaringly. If you want Ayestrom to pinpoint you within two seconds of getting a half-decent look at your face, then just keep on looking like that. I'd warrant he has at_ least _a rudimentary knowledge of each of our physical appearances, and more likely than not has us down to the last detail. And your eyes are like headlights."

"On high beam," Flash put in.

"Particularly against that darker skin tone."

Superman's eyes did indeed seem to gleam with their own light, the clear, icy, alien blue, together with the fire of the mind behind them, contrasted brilliantly against the rest of the disguise, their clarity accentuated by the overall filth.

Superman frowned. "Although I have a certain physiological control over some physical aspects of myself, like my voice, I don't think I can simply will a colour-change to happen to-"

"I noticed the discrepancy," Batman smoothly interjected. "And have prepared for that contingency."

"Of course he has," Flash observed caustically.

From his utility belt, Batman produced a small case which he deftly flipped open and handed to Superman, who took them warily into his newly scarred and gnarled hands, which shook slightly. He stilled them quickly before anyone but Batman noticed, hoping he would assume it was more acting the part, and peered down at the soft objects.

Contacts.

"Good thinking."

He tilted his head back, popped them in, and looked up. One eye was now a muted, muddy brown, unremarkable. But the other held a sheen of sickly white, milky over the subtle brown beneath. Blind.

"Talk about Ug-Ly," Plas said admiringly. "Hey, I know this scary bag lady looking for a date … I could set something up …"

"Thine eye shall doth deceive him, methinks," said Flash with a smirk.

"Definitely an improvement," J'onn said.

"I'll try not to take that personally," Superman said dryly.

J'onn actually smiled. "I could scarcely have done better myself. Although perhaps a gender change …"

Superman narrowed his eyes. "I am not wearing a dress."

That spurred a few hoots from the younger set.

"Whyever not, Supes? I'm thinking you'd fill it out rather nicely," Plas said slyly.

Superman raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, even as a guy, this should easily get them to turn a blind 'Aye' to you," chortled Flash.

"I almost wish _I _were blind," Kyle said, fighting down a smirk. "Will you all ever forgive me? 'Cause hopefully being Eye-less will help make us _Aye_-less soon too, right? Though come to think of it, maybe _nose-_less would be preferable right now …"

"Aye!"

"Aye, aye!"

"Well, if we all like it, I guess the 'Eyes' have it," Wally added with a chuckle.

Even Diana groaned at that one. "Gods, Flash …"

Superman just stood there and patiently endured the remarks and laughter, though he did turn a long-suffering look on Batman. Batman merely folded his arms across his chest and held his peace.

"Does anyone else realize just how surreal this conversation is getting?" asked Kyle, squinting at the others as if trying to judge their solidity.

Wally shrugged noncommittally. "Believe me, I know we're still here in this plane of in_creas_ingly interesting existence. That smell is only all too real."

"Cornered me there," Kyle grinned.

He realized he felt a slight bit better for the first time since they had recognized what a horrible, monstrous threat Ayestrom had become. Whether it was the truth or not, Superman and the other senior members of the team – except Batman and Aquaman, naturally, and the world really would be ending if _they_ cracked a smile – were keeping things buoyant, and the effect was rather contagious. He'd actually stopped worrying about Ayestrom, about his missed deadlines and his job in jeopardy, about his sister and her suspicions, about his young niece and her complicated problems, about his usefulness to the team, about having to live up to the Green Lantern legacy, about _every_thing, even if it was for just a few minutes.

Maybe, just maybe, they would manage to pull this outrageous plan off, and get everyone out of it intact, kids, ambassadors, League teammates, and all. Maybe. He could hope, couldn't he? He had to hope. Wasn't that what heroes did?

"The chronometer is ticking," J'onn finally said gently, and Kyle could tell even he was reluctant to break up the camaraderie.

"Ready, aye, ready, Manhunter!" Flash snapped off a salute.

"All righty, everybudeeee," Plastic Man announced sternly, the gargantuan sun-dial on his wrist belying his serious tone, "synchronize your JLA ™ watches. Say a prayer for the boys, and move on out!"

Everyone looked at him for a moment. Kyle suddenly felt a wide grin steal over his face and opened his mouth to give the best put-down comeback he'd ever come up with, when Batman nodded a stiff agreement and Superman shrugged a deformed shoulder and said, "You heard the man," and everyone else nodded determinedly and began heading en masse for the teleporters.

Kyle scowled, stymied.

"Y-you did?" Plas stammered, slack-jawed for a split second. He recovered amazingly fast, and his costume transformed to an off-beat semblance of a police officer's uniform. "Right. You certainly did. Move out, and stay coordinated, people." The team ignored him this time, proceeding with their equipment out of the room. "Oh, and JL Blues," Plas paused dramatically. "Let's be careful out there."

Kyle sighed.

Everyone gathered up the packs of equipment and gathered together for a moment in silence, and Kyle suddenly felt the return of the queasiness that had momentarily dissipated . He took a breath as he looked out the clear plasteel viewports towards the crescent Earth hanging above.

That so very vulnerable little planet ...

But he caught Superman's gaze for a moment, and couldn't help but return the grin, and his step was a touch lighter as he got up onto the teleporter platform.

Yes. This was going to work. He knew it.

It just had to.

-------------

Feedback, as always, is love. :**-)**


	5. Desideratum

A/N: THANK YOU for your patience and support, dear and loyal readers! It means a lot. :-) My apologies that this part took so long to post - RL crept in the way. I'll try to get Part 5 up a lot sooner!

Cheers,

Pax :-)

**JLA**

"Necessary Force"

**By Paxwolf**

**Note: **This fanfiction story originally was begun some years ago, and is therefore set current to the (comic book version!) _JLA_ lineup at the time, specifically during the Grant Morrison and Mark Waid runs on the title, and with certain details from that era still intact. It is therefore 'old', and has taken several years to see fruition, and therefore be aware that certain discrepancies and dated information - in terms of continuity - may still be contained within.

**Disclaimer:** _The Justice League of America_ and its associated characters are owned and copyrighted by DC Comics and Time Warner. No income is being generated by the Internet publication of this story, sad as that is. ;-) Original characters will also be showing up in this fic and I suppose that might make them owned by me. ;-)

**Warnings:** Violence, Some Language, and Mature Themes. Readers' Discretion is advised.

**Thanks To**: **Kungfunurse**, without whose skilled beta-reading and sweet encouragement this epic may never have been posted, and to the kind and helpful (years-long!) feedback supplied by the gracious **Gwil** and the lovely **Janet Coleman Sides**, both of whom stepped out of their own fandoms (_Stargate:SG-1_ and _Gatchaman_ respectively) in order to read about the denizens of the DC Universe.

**Part IV:**

"**Desideratum"**

**A** cold wind was blowing through the back alleys of Amsterdam's night as two figures silently alighted on a deserted rooftop in the city's warehouse district. Silhouetted against the waning moon, cloaked in shadow, they each surveyed the area cautiously, the caped and cowled one employing a high-tech binocular device, and the shabby one merely concentrating his senses in a wide outward perimeter.

"Okay," the rather frayed shadow said quietly as it turned to leap back into the dark. "Area's secure … for now. If all goes well, we'll rendezvous back at the Plant in six hours." The figure turned his head to regard his companion for a moment, before words almost too soft to be discernible slipped out. "Be careful."

There was a barely audible snort from the silhouette with pointed ears.

Superman shook his head in a rueful sort of way. "I know. See you soon."

Nothing more seemed to be needed to be said, so he prepared to lift again into flight, but the slightest touch on his ragged sleeve gave him pause, and he turned his shaggy head to look back down at Batman questioningly.

Batman, however, seemed to hesitate, which, Superman noted, was extremely unlike him. He allowed his feet to settle noiselessly back onto the tarred surface of the roof. For a moment he didn't say anything, waiting, but when Batman continued to maintain his silence, Superman drew a breath and then with a casual air tilted his head in open invitation.

"What is it?"

Batman's shoulders seemed to tighten. Then he turned and gave him a hard, penetrating look. "You took the brunt of all three attacks. Metropolis, Rio, Japan, and most tellingly, Saskatchewan."

Superman shifted uneasily and looked away briefly. He knew what Batman was getting at, but forced himself to lightly ask anyway.

"And your point?"

"Can you handle this mission?" Batman asked bluntly.

Superman could feel his own jaw tighten. "I'm _fine_."

"Are you?" Batman took a step closer, masked gaze boring into him. "I saw firsthand how those weapons – and that blast – threw you for a loop. You can't hide that kind of pain and shock, Clark. Nor their continuing aftereffects. Not from me."

Superman said nothing for a long moment, staring off into the dark depths. Then his gaze jerked back to Batman.

"I can handle the mission because I'm the best person on the team for the job. We _need _to be able to learn more about Ayestrom, particularly the whereabouts and condition of the hostages."

"That's not in question. But if your strength is already compromised …"

"Don't you think I'd have the sense to let J'onn or Diana, or even you, for Rao's sake, skulk in there instead if I could? Contrary to popular belief, I do _not_ have a Messiah Complex." He quirked a grin at Batman, which was not returned. Superman sighed and let the brief smile fade from his lips. "Whether you or I like it or not, we need to be able to see and hear from a distance, _without_ being detected by those damnable scanners. All right?" He had managed to look directly at Batman during his defense, even though privately he was feeling none too steady on his feet. He knew he'd done an admirable job of covering up his fatigue during the League meeting, but also knew both the hoarseness of his voice, and his unfortunate slip on the last adjective, betrayed him. Then again, very little seemed to slip beneath the radar of the Dark Knight.

Batman grunted but made no other verbal reply.

"Whatever my own state of health," Superman continued, with a surge of fresh hope, "I'm the only one who can do that." He settled his shoulders. "It'll be fine, Batman." He hoped he had succeeded in making his voice sound more firm and convincing.

There was a long pause while Batman studied him in the pale light of the crescent moon. Neither blinked or moved.

"You hid your … state of health well at the Watchtower," Batman said at last.

"Not well enough, it appears." Superman smiled tightly through his grime, then looked seriously at Batman. "You know I'm right."

"I don't like it."

"I don't like any of this. Who could?" He shook his head. "What real choice have we got?"

It was Batman's turn to look away and sigh. "There's always another choice, but this plan …"

"… is the best one we've got. We all have our jobs to do. Yours won't exactly be a cakewalk either. But we go where our talents dictate, and do the jobs we're sent to do. This one simply happens to be mine."

"I doubt there will be much that is simple about it." Batman narrowed his gaze at Superman, and then asked, almost reluctantly, "How bad is it?"

Superman's smile looked rather odd through his scarred disguise, kind of lopsided.

"I can manage."

"You haven't had a chance to heal, or to rest. Not in days."

"I have so." Superman stopped and pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes. "Okay, is it just me or did that come out sounding extremely childish?"

"It isn't just you."

"I was afraid of that." Superman sighed. "Look, I've had as much rest as I am going to get. I'm pretty much all healed up. If I wasn't fit for duty, J'onn, mother Martian hen that he is, would never have let me walk out of the infirmary. You know that. Ergo, I'm okay."

"Really." And suddenly Batman was facing him with an even greater intensity than before. Superman almost stepped back in the face of it. "And just how much actual accumulated sleep have you had in the past three weeks?"

"Sleep?" For a moment Superman was tempted to ask, "Sleep? What's that?" but refrained and shrugged. "Enough to get by on."

Batman just looked at him. Superman sighed.

"You know I don't need that much." 

"So, that little then." Superman shot him an annoyed look. "Even you need a minimal amount, Superman. But you've been avoiding any bed like it's a Kryptonite plague." He paused, then obviously decided to up his attack. "Three weeks. Ever since your nightmares began."

Superman caught his breath. It took a moment for him to ground himself again.

"That's … dirty pool, Batman," he managed to growl, even as he tried to wrest his pounding heart back under control.

Batman shrugged. "I'm not the one in a state of denial here. These visions …"

"They're not visions. They're just ... bad dreams." He glared at Batman. "I thought we'd agreed not to bring up that subject again."

Batman twitched aside a fold of his cloak. "I don't recall agreeing to any such thing."

Superman hissed out a breath, not quite able to stop himself from twisting away. "I told you I'm over them."

Batman just looked at him steadily.

After a heartbeat, Superman sagged slightly.

"Believe what you want. You will anyway. But it's true. They've stopped. Mostly. I've got better control now. I've slept."

Raising a hidden eyebrow at the telegrammed sentences, Batman watched him. "You recall that famous Shakespearean line, don't you?"

"I am _not_ protesting too much. Would I lie to you?" Batman stared levelly at him. Superman folded his arms over his chest. "You're worse than J'onn. And I'm seriously beginning to regret sharing that information with you."

Batman snorted softly. "As if I gave you any choice in the matter."

Superman dropped his gaze at that, and said nothing.

The corners of Batman's mouth began to lift in triumph, but he could suddenly again see the darker shadows in Superman's eyes, the memory of the dreams haunting him even now. He began to reach out, and then ruthlessly bit down on the urge to touch him, to call him on it, and finally only nodded. "Go, then. See what there is to be seen."

"Yes." Superman straightened, his gaze returning to the here and now with an obvious effort. "Time to go to work."

He took a step towards the edge of the roof in obvious relief to be escaping the inevitable interrogation so easily, then paused, studying his partner. "There's something else."

Batman began to shake his head but Superman interrupted him.

"Don't bother denying it, Bruce. I know that look."

Batman's first instinct was to lash out and ask how Superman knew any look of his. He knew his own skill at concealing emotion from his features was formidable, even when not masked, but he saw both Superman's expression of skepticism, and one of seeing right through him without the need for x-ray vision. He stopped himself and grimaced. It was frustratingly difficult to hide his own thoughts from this one.

"There's something about this case," he heard himself saying slowly, almost against his will. Superman waited. "It's … difficult to articulate, but … Ayestrom, there's something …" He hesitated again, struggling with how to best voice his fears.

"Yes, I know." Superman came to his rescue. "He … the possibility of what he can do! God. It ... frightens me too. Terribly. As much as General Zod d-" He cut himself off abruptly, and to Batman's practiced eye, looked slightly mortified at his admission, and clenched his fists mutely, before looking up and meeting Batman's eyes levelly. "But it doesn't matter. This monster must be stopped, at any cost." His gaze turned inwards for a moment, and as if Batman could read his mind, he knew he was thinking of the dead children. "The sheer, incarnate evil …"

Batman cut him off, shaking his head fiercely.

"It's not just that. We've faced similar evil before, separately, and together."

"Yes, and we've defeated it before too."

"Not like this," Batman snapped, then drew in a breath. "Not with so many innocents being dangled like a carrot on a stick in front of us. What surer way to get under our skin, or more relevantly, under _your_ skin?"

"What?"

"Superman. Defender of truth and justice - and the advocates of justice. Including world ambassadors for peace. Protector of the helpless. Including sweet, innocent, little children." He punctuated his words with deliberate steps as he stalked forward. "Talk about a baited arrow targeted straight at the Man of Steel's heart."

Superman chewed on his lower lip, staring under his craggy grey brows at Batman.

"I don't follow."

"I think you do. But let me be plain. I fea- I've a suspicion," he corrected himself, "an educated suspicion, that Ayestrom's aim was to target you specifically out of all of us."

Superman's eyes darted up, wide with surprise. "Me? Why?" He frowned at Batman. "There's no evidence to support this ... this ..." He shook his head again. "That's pure conjecture. What on earth makes you believe that?"

Batman stared at him. Did he really have to spell it out?

"Perhaps some see me as the League's main leader, or spokesman," Superman was going on rather blithely, "but I hardly think that would mean …"

"No," Batman growled, leaning forward to glare into Superman's eyes. "No. Open your eyes. See how _he_ would see you. How so many see you. It's everything. What you've done. What you represent. Who you are. What you mean to the world."

Superman blinked at him for a moment, and then began to chuckle. "Oh, come on. That's ridiculous. You're severely exaggerating the importance of a reputat-"

"Don't be a fool," Batman hissed in frustration. "You are severely underestimating it, damn it. Let go of that patented humility for once and accept your own place in the League, and in the world." It wasn't often that Batman used even slightly off-colour terms, and Superman shut up for once and gritting his teeth, chose to hear Batman out. Batman saw it and nodded sharply. "To someone like Ayestrom, you're not just an obstacle in his way to obtaining power, or just another JLA member, a superhero, an adversary. You're the one a great many other heroes look up to. The one they try to emulate. You set the example that everyone else tries to follow. You're the ideal, Clark. The most 'Good', the most pure example of selfless courage and heroism the world has to offer, and he …"

"Hah. As if." Superman's mouth twisted a bit self-deprecatingly. "He obviously hasn't studied me or my spectacular collection of failures all that closely then …"

"Then I suppose Doomsday was just a fairy tale," Batman snapped.

Superman winced. "Well, I, uh …" 

"Wake up already, Superman. There's more afoot here than you clearly are willing to believe."

"Not every villain possesses fathoms-deep and multi-layered motivations for the evil that they do, you know," the Kryptonian retorted.

"The ones that I fight do," Batman countered. "And whether you want to admit it or not, so do most of yours. And this time, there are more than enough clues that point to the veracity of my conclusion."

Superman sighed deeply, and then stared off into the night for a long moment, expression strangely indecipherable. Batman stepped back slightly, watching him. Then he gritted his teeth.

"Do you still believe these 'dreams' are merely a coincidence?"

Superman immediately tensed, and his mouth thinned under the disguise, but otherwise he made no indication he had heard, his head still turned away from him. The moonlight was making a stark pattern of contrasts across his ravaged face, a haunting chiaroscuro of shadow and light that Batman found oddly disturbing.

He shook himself mentally, and this time found himself reaching out and grasping Superman's arm.

"Clark." He was almost exploding in his intensity, but Superman seemed to be a thousand miles away. "Clark. Listen to me." But Superman continued to gaze off into space. Batman could feel his own mouth tightening. "Kal." That got his attention, and Superman refocused on him with a start. A visible tremour ran through him as he looked back at Batman.

"I don't ... I don't think ..."

Batman took a deep breath. "I think Ayestrom wants to overcome us all, yes, that he's certainly pursuing some power-mad agenda of his own. And certainly his behaviour shows he's got something to prove here. But I don't think he's just out to win against us and pave a clear path for himself." He stopped, and speared Superman with a look. "He wants to utterly defeat what – or who – he sees as the best of us. To measure himself against an ultimate icon. One who is not only identified with America and the free world, but with the whole damned planet, even though he's _from_ another planet. The one who's not just saved the word at his own risk time and again, but whom the common, everyday people … love." He paused. "You."

Superman stared back at him for several moments, and then abruptly stepped back, raising his hands as if raising a shield of space and denial around him.

"Fascinating theory, Detective. If ludicrous." He gave a laugh that sounded forced to Batman's ears. "We are all equal. And the JLA's working here as a team, as a unit, not as separate individuals. We all are after justice, and we _each _represent justice. And Ayestrom … Ayestrom is after power, pure and simple."

"There's nothing pure or simple about it," Batman said darkly.

"Maybe not, but his motives are nothing we haven't seen before." Superman shook his head. "Ayestrom desires his will to triumph, using whatever means necessary, regardless of the cost to human life, or to the best interests of the Earth. He may treat it like some grand scale game, pitting his rooks and knights against his best opponents, who just happen to be the JLA, but it's a deadly game, one that we cannot afford to let ourselves lose. We're at a slight disadvantage in that we can't be as ruthless in our tactics as he. Nor can we allow any of his own pawns to be sacrificed. We can't. But we won't win any other way. Not truly." He drew a breath, and then looked at Batman with a gentleness in his eyes that startled him. "The 'S' is an easy draw, Bruce. It's always a target. You know that. I'm nothing special. He'll hurt anyone who gets in his way. Anyone."

Batman gazed back at him, conflicted, half wishing he himself could be convinced that Superman's words were true. Convinced that Ayestrom was like any other villain, albeit incredibly powerful, and dangerously influential. But he seemed more cunning, and more depraved, than most. He was decidedly not a run-of-the-mill threat they could easily scoop up and deposit in a jail cell and wipe their hands of. He was instead like the Joker, minus the insanity, plus possible superpowers and a terrifyingly huge following.

He shuddered slightly.

Could he be misreading into things? It wasn't often he called into question his own deductions. Could his own admitted bias be unduly influencing his thought processes?

He wanted to laugh out loud at the 'nothing special' remark. Superman really could be startlingly naïve sometimes.

"Perhaps," he said out loud at last. "I certainly would prefer to subscribe to your view, Clark, although I doubt it is the right one."

Superman sighed, then gave another tight grin. "Stubborn as always."

Batman snorted. "Speak for yourself. There are most definitely times you surpass me in that category." He stopped and gave Superman a stern look. "Even if I'm wrong, which I again I point out is very unlikely, I don't have to remind you to stay on your guard at all times."

Superman didn't smile this time, to Batman's oddly combined relief and worry, only acknowledging Batman's concern and warning seriously.

"Of course. And you too."

They each stood uncomfortably for a moment, buried in their own thoughts.

"Better get going," Superman finally said, shaking himself out of both his reverie and the weary fugue that kept threatening to engulf him ever since the last Drill assault. "Before we mess up the timing on your own mission."

"Never happen," Batman answered calmly. "I've been tracking my moves ahead of time to the nanosecond."

Batman could have sworn that Superman's eyes twinkled for the briefest of moments at that, although his mouth stayed grim. Perhaps the shadows were playing tricks on him.

"Of course you have. I'll be seeing you in six."

Batman stepped back and gave a curt nod, suddenly not trusting himself to speak.

There was suddenly a great deal more that he wanted to say, but this was neither the time nor the place for it. And there would be other, better opportunities after the espionage part of the mission was completed. He would see Superman again soon.

Six hours, after all, was not all that long a time.

He withdrew a batarang with an abrupt, almost clunky motion, whirled, and sprang off the rooftop before shooting out the line towards an adjacent building. But even as he swung low into the alley below, he heard Superman's voice whisper in his ear as if the man were right next to him.

"Thanks for not giving me away to the others, Bruce. And … good luck."

Batman thought for a brief instant to remind Superman that he didn't believe in luck. But after a second, he only murmured, "And to you."

His other thoughts he kept to himself as he swooped further into the European shadows, which were not so unlike the ones in Gotham, and sailed on to his own dark destination.


	6. Post to Pillar

**A/N.**: My apologies for the fairly long interim between chapters here, folks. Around Christmastime and right after, RL just got a bit too out of hand and I was crazy busy. (gah!) If you are still with me, my most profound thanks, and I will try very hard to ensure that there won't such a long gap in between parts of the story in the future. (in fact, Part 6 will be ready to go soon!) My gratitude to all my readers for your support and patience! And without further ado, here is Part 5 of this JLA Epic:-)

**JLA**

**"Necessary Force"**

**By Paxwolf**

**  
Note:** Please see all disclaimers, notes, warnings, and acknowledgements at the front of Part I: "Necessary Force". Thank you!

**Part V:**

"Post to Pillar"

**W**onder Woman scanned the empty lot with keen eyes as she descended towards the dilapidated buildings in the western sector of the city of Rotterdam. Seeing no signs of life - or of any traps - she deftly altered her angle of flight and quickly touched down, her boots making no sound on the gravelly dirt of the barren parcel of land. She paused, gathering her bearings, and then smiled.

"You can come out now, Dinah. I was not followed."

A blonde head cautiously emerged from behind a stack of moss-covered appliances, dumped in the lot years before from the look of them. Taking a quick, furtive glance around, Black Canary rose from her position and approached the Amazon Princess with obvious relief.

"Diana. Am I glad to see you. You wouldn't believe the - er, transactions I've been forced to witness tonight without being able to do a thing about."

Wonder Woman gave a sympathetic nod. "I am sorry to hear that." She surveyed the rundown neighbourhood with a sad glance. "And I can well imagine. The League owes you a great deal, Dinah," she continued more warmly. "The information you have managed to attain has thus far proved invaluable."

"Glad to hear it." Canary glanced around a bit nervously, although her stance looked anything but. "And I'd really like to hear more of your plans, but I hope you understand if I'd feel far more comfortable being somewhere less ... exposed."

"Oh. Of course. If you would show me the site in question, I will bring you up to speed on all the sundry details."

Canary nodded and began to step back, taking out her grapple and rope, and then started at Diana's hand under her elbow.

"If you would permit me," the Amazon said quietly, "time is of the utmost importance."

Dinah opened her mouth as if to protest and then closed it just as quickly, slightly exasperated at her oversight. She barely felt a slight tug and suddenly they were aloft, soaring through the dark sky like her namesake. She drew in a startled breath, marvelling at her companion's easy strength, and then calmed herself enough to point out the Dutch city's various landmarks en route to her most recent surveillance post.

"So," Canary began after they had settled on solid footing again, and hidden themselves on a deserted office balcony overlooking the purported terrorist base, "what's the current strategy?"

"Espionage, to begin with," Wonder Woman told her, narrowing her eyes at the easily visible sentries posted below their shadowed perch.

"_What_?" Canary immediately tensed, fear fluttering in her throat. "You're not serious. Didn't Oracle tell you guys about the meta-power detect-"

"Superman is handling the key role in our covert operations himself. In fact, assuming he and Batman are on schedule, he's infiltrating the main base in Amsterdam as we speak."

Dinah's hand flew to her mouth. "Surely with _his_ power signatu —" She stopped herself this time, with an impressed lift of her eyebrows. "Ah. I see. Super-senses." Wonder Woman nodded with a hint of a smile. Canary bit her lip thoughtfully then gave a low whistle. "Even so, he's in for no picnic. The merc I collared thinks our major mystery villain himself is holed up in there. Even that monster's own men are rumoured to be afraid of him." She tossed a quick look at Diana. "Superman's not one to avoid going straight into the lion's den, is he?"

Diana shook her head a little ruefully. "You know him well."

"Why is it that _he_ of all people sometimes thinks he has something to prove to the rest of us?" Dinah asked, exasperated. "Geez. He's more than earned a bit of a break."

"You should hear Batman on the subject," Diana answered, an amused twitch to her mouth. "My own theory is that Kal somehow believes he's got to live up to his reputation. That it has somehow been … over-inflated."

Black Canary looked at her in disbelief. "You're kidding me, right?_ Superman_?"

"I know." Wonder Woman smiled. "I think he also feels responsible for the rest of us. As if he is to credit - or blame - for the people who became heroes due to his influence. Of course, there is some small grain of truth to that latter belief." She shrugged. "And so he tries to shoulder more of the danger, and more of the work."

"That sounds kinda stressful."

"Yes. It does, doesn't it?"

"My informant tells me that Ayestrom has quite the nasty little obsession with the League," Canary commented with a slight shudder, taking out her night-vision scope. "He's pretty sure that the despot is planning all sorts of fun surprises for us."

"Speaking of whom," Diana said, more to take her mind off the awful peril her friend was facing, "Where is your captive? We were in hopes of acquiring additional intelligence from him."

Canary scowled, and shifted her crouch to peer further over the balcony's ledge.

"It seems our oh so helpful Belgian contact aids Interpol on occasion, in addition to getting goods to info-brokers like Oracle. And those fine gentlemen happened to insist rather strongly that I turn over the prisoner into their loving custody. It was either that or get ousted from the country. Needless to say, I elected to stay." She grinned a little bitterly.

"That's unfortunate," Diana said, then squeezed Canary's shoulder kindly. "But you did the right thing. And we are still ahead of where we were yesterday."

"Maybe so," Dinah allowed, but her expression remained grim. "But against this power-mad creep and his army of hard-core bullies, we need every advantage we can get."

"The League agrees with your assessment," Diana informed her seriously. "Batman has called in several of our reserve members for additional assistance in our efforts, and has put the Titans, JSA, Outsiders, and Young Justice on alert. And we shall continue to need your contributions just as badly."

"Great. Strength in numbers, right?"

Wonder Woman smiled at her assuredly, but it was obvious that the Amazon's mind was elsewhere. It didn't take a lot for Canary to guess where.

"Thanks, Diana," she said more clearly. " I appreciate that vote of confidence. So, who else we got coming in on this?"

When Diana didn't answer right away, Dinah again prompted, louder. "Earth to Diana. Any names?"

"Ah. My apologies. My focus is not what it should be."

"That's quite okay. I empathize. Really."

"We will be joined by Steel at the temporary HQ. Huntress, of course, you already know is in. Booster, Guy Gardner, Fire, Ice, and Zauriel are on standby. Oracle is still contacting the Atom, Blue Beetle, and few select others. Including Oliver, of course."

Canary grinned. "He wouldn't let himself _not _get involved here. And that's all good news for our side. Ray's, Ted's, and John's technical acumen may come in extremely handy in deciphering one or two of Ayestrom's plethora of gadgets and weapons. It's like a _Star Trek_ geek tech-fest down there." She paused when she saw Diana didn't understand the pop culture reference. "Science fiction? You know, classic cult TV?" She shook her head. "Don't fret about it," she added when Diana looked a bit lost. "You haven't missed out on much by not getting cable in Themyscira." She cleared her throat. "And us? What is our current part to play in this marvelously meticulous melodrama?"

Diana chuckled. "We will know more of our task when the Flash arrives. He is scheduled to personally contact all on-assignment members for a secure update on the situation at each base location."

"Why not just use the comm—"

"Because that could be a problem." She sighed, and looked grim. "According to Steel, our communications may be detected, even possibly listened in on. He didn't have the time to whip together more than one new system, and we cannot simply — "

"Wait, wait. What about the telepathic link?" Canary interrupted, already growing more impatient at the League's growing disadvantages. She grit her teeth. "Ah. Sorry."

Wonder Woman tilted her head in understanding. "Apparently the link is also not advisable. It seems, if Batman's information is correct, that there is an alarming possibility that there is a powerful telepath or psychic within the mercenary forces. There have been hints that it could perhaps even be their master himself. His specific abilities are still an unknown quantity as of yet. We simply do not know. And therefore ..."

"The risk is too great, and so it's better to err on the side of caution." Dinah sighed. "I get it."

Diana gazed out at the base below with a more attentive eye as the guard was quietly and competently changed. They both observed quietly for a moment. These people obviously knew what they were doing. Not a happy thought.

"And for now?" Canary asked, already knowing the answer and none too pleased. She was itching for some action.

"For now, we simply watch . . . and wait."

Dinah nodded unhappily and grimaced a bit in frustration.  
_  
Trust Superman to hog all the good stuff,_ she thought, _all the A-level excitement and danger always seems to home right in on him!_

But in truth she envied him not at all. Not in this case. Already a tight knot of worry was worming itself up her esophagus from the vicinity of her stomach, and knew Diana was feeling the same, only probably on a much greater scale. But seeing the struggle for control on her colleague's face, and the calm serenity that eventually settled there, she summoned her own reserves of courage and patience.

"Just watch and wait," Canary muttered, focussing her binoculars, "and maybe a little prayer wouldn't go entirely amiss either."

Diana turned to her with her first genuine smile. "Indeed not. Such has certainly done me no small amount of good in like circumstance. And the gods have been kind."

"Oh goody," Dinah mumbled. "I'm preaching to the converted."

She wasn't really sure what to make of Wonder Woman's apparent connection to the ancient pantheon of Greek mythology that she remembered from school, but she wasn't about to argue their existence either. And even if she had been brought up with a more monotheistic view of a higher power, she didn't generally consider herself to be the staunch believer that her partner Helena was with her Catholicism.

But as she looked out at the bleak scene below her, so obviously emanating power and menace and mystery, she did utter a small prayer under her breath in the end. After all, it couldn't hurt.

The air was growing increasingly warm and humid.

Lauren Findlay, elementary school teacher and first time visitor to Holland, wiped at the trickle of perspiration running down the back of her neck. She ducked her head at the guard's approach, not wishing to provoke any more abuse from these bastards than she could avoid. She gripped the small, white-knuckled hands of Kerry Mueller and Janey Lucas in hers even more tightly, hugging the youngest of the students to her.

She could feel their small forms trembling, and see the fear in the eyes of the kids around her, but at least the worst of the panic and hysterical tears had finally subsided. The guards sauntered past every so often, arrogant in their perceived power over their prisoners, and ridiculously over-armed with redundant weapons. What on earth did they expect some scared fifth and sixth graders to do, anyway? They weren't exactly in a position to stage an escape attempt, never mind an actual overthrow.

Laurie met the anxious glance of one of her colleagues, Linc Parrish, and summoned up a forced smile, giving him the thumbs up. The older, dark-skinned teacher returned a quick nod, relieved, but didn't relax his tense vigil. She didn't blame him.

Lincoln taught the third grade at their school, but having had a double prep period, had graciously volunteered his extra time to help chaperone her and Mei Liang's field trip to the Syracuse fish hatchery. He shouldn't even be here, wherever here was.  
_  
_None _of us should be,_ she amended to herself. _Especially not little Janey,_ she thought suddenly, looking down at the tousle-haired child clinging to her like a lifeline. 

Janey wasn't one of her pupils, but when they'd gotten together for coffee, (what two, three days ago? Longer? She'd completely lost track of time now) Laurie's old university roommate had asked that her daughter be allowed to come along on the trip, being her first visit to New York state and already bored at their hotel. How Laurie wished now that she hadn't acquiesced!

She watched with some admiration as Jessica, a level-headed sixth grade student, worked tirelessly at calming two of her scared, younger classmates, and was suddenly perversely glad that it had been her class and not Linc's that had been abducted. Primary-aged children would have been even more difficult to keep calm and relatively controlled, and they could ill afford any more panic-stricken outbursts. It was highly doubtful that the mercenaries' patience would last much longer.

Their tolerance of trouble was remarkably low for kidnappers of children, she thought wryly, surprising herself with the observation. As it was, she still recalled with searing pain the shocking and heart-rending murders, recorded by the assault team for later broadcast, of three of their students and their bus driver during the initial assault and abduction. It had taken her the last twenty-four hours just to reach an acceptance of what had happened.

_No, no, I don't think I'll ever accept it._

Laurie pulled out the last of her Kleenex from her coat pocket to dab at Janey's cheeks, where silent tears began to course down once again. Kerry still hadn't uttered a single word since the ordeal had begun. She watched him worriedly. Melanie Cordero, one of the slain children, had been amongst Kerry's dearest friends. Laurie felt a resurgence of the rage that had overcome her two days earlier even as she tenderly cradled both children's heads against her shoulders.

Rage, yes, but also no small amount of guilt and terror. Rage at the unfeeling, sadistic evil of the men who had committed this atrocity, and at her own helplessness to do anything about it. Guilt at having failed to adequately protect the young charges within her care. And terror at the knowledge that more of the same might happen to any or all of the hostages before this nightmare was over.

She now knew that hostages they indeed were, but made by whom and against whom she had no idea.

Yet.

The lack of information from their captors was distressing in and of itself, but she was determined to find out more at first chance.

She sent a concerned look over her shoulder at Mei, who crouched by several students from her own class, trying to assuage their fear even while she herself continued to shiver uncontrollably. Two of the children killed - as an example for the others, they had been callously told - had been Mei's students. Laurie was still having a hard time believing clever little Melanie and sweet-hearted Ryan were gone. And her own pupil - ten-year old Peter Hagel had been Laurie's. She closed her eyes.

One of her students was dead.  
_  
One was enough. One was more than enough._

And two others from her friend's class.  
_  
Damnit. Damn it all to hell._

She felt an overwhelming urge to withdraw from the hurt and the fear and the violence. To retreat deep within herself, fleeing from the horror, and never open her eyes again. Oh how very great was that temptation! Too great.

She steeled herself with supreme effort and opened her eyes, looking up through the hastily erected barbed wire enclosure at the vast, dark chamber to which they had all been herded like sheep. Close to their end of the cavernous room was a raised dais upon which sat a plush, high-back chair, looking unmistakably like a throne, gaudily trimmed and decadent-looking as it was.

She frowned, and then looked over at the second, separate pen that was situated across a wide space from their own. Inside sat a group of foreign-looking dignitaries who had been only recently brought in together, cuffed, blindfolded, and disoriented, but otherwise unharmed. Laurie had only the faintest of inklings of who this new group of hostages might be, and still no clue as to where on earth they all were now. The one time she and Linc had tried to call across to the other captives, the guards had fired several rounds into the floor beside their cage with black looks in their eyes and ugly oaths on their lips. The teachers had subsided.

Old Mac, their driver, had tried to defend the kids, and had been cruelly cut down as if he had meant less than nothing. Laurie felt a fresh pang as she remembered the last words of the valiant and gentle man. He'd been defiant until the end, and more concerned with the kids than the fact that he was bleeding out on the floor of his bus.  
_  
Oh, Mac, I won't forget. Never. Never._

From their destroyed school bus in upstate New York, the survivors had travelled in complete darkness for hours, locked in a vault-like cell. She had sensed they had been in an aircraft at some point; she had felt the accelerating motion and increasing air pressure until her ears had popped. And then they had arrived here, dragged out and placed in this cage, and despite their pleas and demands, had been told nothing further of consequence. The enforced ignorance of both their whereabouts and their captors' plans for them served to only increase their fright, which was likely a conscious intention. The cocky guards either only sneered, or worse, issued horrid, profanity-laced threats when asked any question whatsoever.

They had been given food and water, of course; they were meant to be kept alive, so she guessed their lives possessed some kind of value or commodity with these people. They had also been given a makeshift washroom facility and cleansing hoses of cold water, but no information. On the other hand, no one had been taken away for questioning or interrogation - or abuse, she thought with a little shiver - and she was going to count what blessings they had. When Linc had finally pressed for some news in desperation, angrily demanding answers and declaring their rights under the Geneva Convention, he'd had a rifle barrel pressed to his head along with a comment in broken English that two teachers would be less irksome to keep alive than three. Taking the threat seriously, after that none of them dared ask for anything more beyond basic necessities for life and hygiene.

To help relieve her feeling of utter helplessness more than due to any hope for getting answers, Laurie strained her sketchy commands of French and German as she tried to eavesdrop on the snatches of conversation between the guards. They didn't seem to particularly care what she might have overheard, either because they believed Americans had no linguistic knowledge beyond the English language, or because it couldn't possibly matter if the hostages happened to learn anything of use. She fervently hoped the reason was the former.

She caught a few words from languages that she guessed sounded like Dutch, Italian, Russian, Danish, and Spanish from a few passersby who were neither dressed like soldiers nor armed, and assumed that the people who lived or worked wherever there was were from more than one country. She began to believe more and more that she and her group were no longer in North America, but somewhere in Europe. The amount of time they'd seemed to be in the air while locked in the black vault lent credence to her theory.

Although the students were allowed to freely move about their enclosure, barring the gated and padlocked exit, the three adults were actively discouraged from communicating with each other. Laurie desperately wished she could share some of what she'd gleaned from the snippets of overheard dialogue in the bits of language she could make out, the most intriguing of which was that the leader of this army of terrorists, whom the guards seemed to uniformly refer to as their 'lord' like he was some kind of medieval king or something, seemed to have access to some sort of great power. Sometimes, though, the lackeys running around forgot themselves and started to refer to a leader with two names, one sounding like it started with an 'I' sound, and the other with a 'U'. But they always caught themselves before they finished out the name, casting suspicious glances at the pens to see if anyone had overheard. Laurie always pretended to be sleeping then.  
_  
As if it's a big secret with this jerk's name is,_ she thought contemptuously. _Who on earth cares what he calls himself?_

What this hidden power could be she couldn't begin to guess. Nuclear armaments? She couldn't help but wonder, somewhat fearfully. The male and female soldiers alike seemed to admire their leader, and didn't mind boasting of his apparent ability to take over the whole western world if he so desired. President Luthor's name, and that of the UN's, came up more than once, spoken with obvious venom and disdain.

Most interesting of all, it seemed increasingly clear that this terrorist sect's leader possessed a powerful and curious obsession regarding super-heroes of all things. Superheroes! Why them? But he seemed to have cultivated quite the hatred, or fascination - Laurie wasn't able to tell which - for costumed, meta-powered heroes, the Justice League in particular.

This information flabbergasted Laurie. Was this leader some kind of megalomaniac would-be dictator, like Pokolistan's General Zod, or Cuba's Castro, or Iraq's Hussein? Or was he an alien despot like Darkseid? Or maybe a power-crazed super-villain in the vein of Despero or Doomsday? And most significantly, from Laurie's perspective, what did she, her colleagues, and their pupils, have to do with any of this madness? They certainly were in no way involved in international politics or world trade, nor were they affiliated with or related to anyone in the White House, Pentagon, United Nations, or American embassies, and certainly were not attached to any super­hero teams. So what exactly could their purpose there be?

She looked over at the newer arrivals in their separate pen on the opposite side of the stone dais.

Now they looked more the type one would expect to see in a hostage situation if anyone did. Nearly two dozen men and women sat in groups on the rock floor, clad in suits or exotic-looking cultural garb. They sat quietly, warily watching their guards, who were far more attentive to them than to those captives in Laurie's pen, for which she was profoundly - if guiltily - grateful. But what had she or her class done to be lumped in with the likes of foreign officials?

She shook her head, mystified.

_I sure hope we get some answers. And soon. Not knowing is - almost - the worst._

At the very least, her ruminations served to help maintain her composure, further influencing the children around her to keep calm themselves. Most had finally fallen into fitful sleep, huddled into the emergency blankets and few sleeping bags that had been thrown into their pen. She envied them that much rest. She doubted she would be able to sleep at all, despite her own fatigue. Her nerves were entirely too much on edge, and she continually jumped at the slightest movement or loud noise.

_What could possibly be the reason, or the outcome, of this nightmare?_ she wondered for the umpteenth time.

Escape was impossible. It seemed to her that the best they could hope for was a successful hostage negotiation, whereupon they'd be released. Or maybe, dare she think it, an outright rescue. Neither possibility seemed all that likely. But they were still alive for a purpose. Or at least most of them were, she corrected herself with renewed grief. Three small children and one kindly old man had died, brutally, without provocation, and without reason.

She didn't fool herself into thinking that any of them would be exempt from like treatment, and shuddered inwardly. Then she lifted her chin, shoulders squaring. If she was to die, then she would do so with what courage and dignity she could muster, like the heroes of history she so admired, fighting to protect the remaining children. She only hoped she'd get the chance to say a few choice words to this royal 'I' bastard first. So far, their group of hostages hadn't even merited enough importance for the head cheese to evaluate them in person.

_Too bad,_ she thought, her fear drowning in a red tide of uncharacteristic fury. I_'d love to spit in his eye if I could._

For Melanie, Ryan, and Petey. For Mac.  
_  
For all of us._

Laurie would look for any opportunity to do so, futile and foolhardy as it probably was.

She tucked Janey in closer. After watching and listening to their captors' talk, she increasingly doubted she would have anything left to lose.

-------

**Next:** We find out more about Batman's self-appointed mission, and a little more about our mysterious enemy the League is up against. Stay tuned!


	7. Cormorant

**A/N:** Hello, dear and loyal (and very patient) readers! Humblest apologies for taking so long to bring you another chapter of this little ongoing Epic of mine. RL trumps writing and posting, I'm afraid, but I hadn't thought it would be months in between chapters. I won't let such a long hiatus occur again between updates, to the best of my ability! So, thank you very much to all those still with me! (and thank you all for the many favouriting and Story Alerts that you've added, and thank you most sincerely for the kind reviews and messages! And I hope you enjoy! - Pax :-)

--

******JLA**  
**"Necessary Force"**

******By Paxwolf**

**Note:**Please see Part One of JLA: "Necessary Force" for all disclaimers, notes, acknowledgements, and warnings. Thank you!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own most of these characters, sadly, and only a bit of enjoyment is being earned from these proceedings, and no money. Go, DC!

******Part VI:**

******"Cormorant"**

"Damn, he's a real Speedy Gonzalez, all right."

"I would appreciate a more precise repo-"

"No need to get testy. I was getting there. He encountered a little trouble at the second security checkpoint - and before you even think about asking, it's been taken care of." The note of reproach in the voice was unmistakeable. "He's now nearly penetrated the inner perimeter, and he's making astonishingly excellent time, all things considered. Like I said, quic-"

"No alarms?"

"None that either he or I have detected. And that's saying something, heh?"

"Good. Keep me informed."

"I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise."

"Every obstacle. Every step of the way."

"You just aren't having a good time with this, are you?"

Batman only gave an inarticulate growl.

"He can take care of himself, you know. Give the man some credit. After all, he is …"

"…entirely too willing to put himself in harm's way," came the especially irritable reply to Oracle's trained ear. "At any rate, it's not him I'm worried about." _Uh huh. Right._ "We've got helpless civilian hostages in there. Children! And more power than we've seen in years." Batman ground his teeth. "All at the mercy of a madman."

"Yep," she said agreeably. "That's why the JLA was called in. The best to handle the worst." She paused, and then continued in a softer tone. "We'll get them out, Batman. All of them. Alive."

Batman didn't reply, presumably concentrating on whatever he was viewing through his magnetoscope-oculars or whatever the League had taken to calling the Waynetech-developed devices today. Oracle heaved an audible sigh over his comm unit.

"He'll be fine," she said in a softer tone, before turning businesslike again. "I'll keep you in the loop, Boss. Get some rest if you can."

He didn't bother dignifying the suggestion with a response as the comm signal from Gotham deactivated.

After several unextraordinary minutes passed by, during which Batman studied every detail of the base laid out below him, and kept his mind occupied by a thorough examination of every detail of the situation the League found itself in, he felt a sudden prickling in his mind.

"Report, J'onn." He didn't pause from his scan of the activity below his perch.

"We have secured our fall-back position at the old city waste plant," J'onn's voice sounded seemingly from inside his own mind. "Everything thus far appears to be in order. Additionally, Kyle has activated several early warning detectors in the happenstance of unexpected … arrivals."

Batman frowned.

"We still don't know precisely how Ayestrom shorted out the Ring in Canada. I don't like…"

"That is, of course, why I am also here," came J'onn's unflappable response. Batman grunted. "And why we are also employing more mundane methods of advanced warning and security. Steel and Atom are expected momentarily. There seems to be ample room for the set up of their equipment."

"Be as discreet as possible. We cannot afford to draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves from any of the locals."

"We shall indeed be very careful."

Batman stilled his mind for a moment.

"Batman?"

"J'onn, I want you to get Irons to set up an emergency infirmary at the camp. I plan on it remaining unoccupied, but …"

"As a precaution, I understand. Quite sensible, really."

"Thank you," Batman thought dryly.

"And just what is Superman's current status?"

Batman scowled. "I wasn't thinking of him, but of possible hostage casualties should the situation turn ugly."

"Of course," J'onn nodded mentally. "And?"

He sighed.

"Oracle informs me he is well on his way. He's apparently enjoyed some success in outmaneuvering a few interesting deterrents on his way inside."

"That is good news for a change," said J'onn approvingly. "However, the next time a like crisis arises, I propose that we ourselves take action to order to deter _him_ from plowing into such missions of risk practically single-handedly."

Batman raised a brow at that, but after a moment only mustered up a dark "Agreed."

"Even," J'onn continued implacably, "if we must resort to tying him down with Diana's magic lasso and sticking a sliver of Kryptonite in his …"

"J'onn!" Batman blinked.

"He seemed entirely too determined to spare the rest of us unnecessary risk," J'onn said, unperturbed. "He does realize we are all in this together?"

Batman said nothing for a moment, watching the movement of sentries below. "It was the only foreseeable way."

"We may recognize that as a fact, but his attitude of late has been … disconcerting, to say the least."

"You're being too overprotective again." He shook his head. "Stop playing mother hen, J'onn."

Batman could sense J'onn's mental smile.

"And so the black pot calls out the kettle." Batman scowled again before J'onn's telepathic 'voice' became grimmer. "Kal-El was not in the tip-top shape he was pretending, Batman. The overlay of fatigue and pain I could sense emanate from him …"

Batman could feel his jaw aching again. "I know."

"Yes, I am certain you do."

"I shall leave the lecture to you, then, when this is all over."

"As you wish. Ah, excuse me, Kyle requires my attention. I shall be in touch again shortly."

"Undoubtedly."

Batman felt J'onn's mental presence fade away just as the opportunity he had been waiting for obligingly halted itself directly below his position. He watched hawkishly as the unaware sentry took a quick, surreptitious glance around before fishing out a cigarette and fumblingly light up, carefully shielding the brief spark of flame from the direction of the base.

_ How very progressive of _Ayestrom, Batman thought with a nasty little smile. _No smoking allowed. Good news for us that rule-breakers generally exist in every organization._

In mere seconds he had swung down, looped a noose around the unsuspecting guard's neck as he was wholly occupied with his inhalation technique, and yanked, hard. Not a sound escaped as the hapless man was hoisted up and out of sight.

_ This ought to make up for Interpol's high-handed arrogance, _Batman thought in satisfaction as he casually disarmed his prisoner and slammed him up against a chimney face. _A _merc for a merc_._

"Mon Dieu!" whispered the soldier as he gasped for breath, taking in the menacing figure before him. "Vous êtes – le Chevalier Noir, … L'Homme des Chauves-souris!"

Batman allowed his teeth to show in a grim smile. "C'est ca. C'est moi. Et nous allons parler un peu, n'est-ce pas?"

If anything, the fear in the man's eyes grew to terror at Batman's quietly menacing words. _ Oh, yes, we are going to have quite a little conversation._

"O-oui." The mercenary opened and closed his mouth like a fish. Then he shook his violently as if coming back to his senses. "Mais non, non! Je ne peux pas! Seigneur Ayestrom …"

"Yes. Tell me about Ayestrom."

The mercenary blinked back at him, looking absurdly young for a member of a global terrorist slash murdering slash kidnapping organization. Was Ayestrom now recruiting adolescents for his insane campaign? Batman wondered disgustedly.

"He-he will execute me if I talk to you, monsieur. Please …"

"What makes you think I won't if you _don't_?"

The young man's eyes widened and he cast a desperate look around him.

"You'll be dead before anyone can arrive to help you," Batman warned him, knowing the threat sounded very sincere. His captive swallowed involuntarily. "Now, do I need to get … agitated, mon ami?"

"S'il vous plaît, Dieu aidez-moi!" the soldier cried. "Ah, je suis mort." He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Not necessarily. He can only kill you if he can find you. And I will only do so if you refuse to talk." He edged even closer, amping up his glare. "Comprendez-vous?" He growled, deliberately looming forward. He wasn't above classic intimidation techniques, not when so much was at stake. "Do we understand each other?" Batman paused, assessing the young man in his grip. "If you decide to help me, if you speak freely, you will be protected."

The mercenary opened his eyes, an unexpectedly sudden sneer on his lips.

"Par les americains? Non! Jamais! I would rather die."

Batman bit down on his temper, staying cold. "No. Not by the U.S. By the Justice League."

The young guard stared at him for a heartbeat, and then inexplicably began to laugh.

Batman shook his head. This was taking too long. Ordinarily, he could get crooks to spill their guts in an inordinately brief span of time; criminals by their very nature were generally a superstitious and cowardly lot. But this young man was obviously more afraid of his master than he was intimidated by the Dark Knight. But this kid didn't seem stupid. Batman decided to try a different tactic.

"Est-ce qu'il est drôle?" he asked neutrally, taking the most minimal of steps back and easing his grip fractionally. "Is the League a source of amusement to you?"

His captive stopped his hysterical laughter and looked back at him with a rather haughty look in his brown eyes.

"Mon seigneur Ayestrom, pour certainement, seems to think so, non?"

"Really. Your 'lord' won't be laughing for much longer. I promise you that."

He watched the expression in the mercenary's eyes as they ran through a gamut of emotions, and decided to take a chance. He loosened his grip altogether and pulled back his weight from crushing his captive against the chimney bricks, giving him space.

"You don't strike me as a particularly evil, foolish, or malicious young man," he began almost conversationally. His prisoner looked back at him warily. "And it's my business to know. What are you really gaining by doing donkey work for a monster like Ayestrom?"

The merc's eyes flashed.

"Tu ne comprends pas," he said, showing insult by his use of the familiar 'you'. "You do not understand. You are a Yankee bigot. Ayestrom is a great man, and a superlative leader. The best my people have seen in generations. And he has the power to make Europe great again, to once more become the world power we once were." He snorted at Batman derisively. "C'est de rigueur. It is the way it is, the accepted way. And we shall be the first to reap the benefits from a more just and distributed society. Tout le monde va voir."

"Fanaticism," Batman returned sharply. "And blind _fascism._ And if you believe an ego-driven powerhouse like Ayestrom works for justice, and would ever deign to share power and wealth with the likes of nobodies like your lot, then you're a good deal more naïve and idiotic than I had first supposed." His captive's face flushed a dark red, but Batman continued relentlessly. "Est-ce que tu es comme un petit enfant vraiment?" The soldier's eyes flashed again at the insinuation that he was akin to a small child. "Je suis surprise. And disappointed. Because it's not been all that long since the last period of time that a would-be tyrant successfully employed propaganda and prejudice to brainwash his people to not only do his bidding, but flock to his cause. Your grandparents can probably still recall the details of what it was like to live under the threat of that regime." The kid's eyes narrowed suddenly, but he said nothing. "And that mad grab for power was for 'the good of Europe' too, as I recall. 'For the betterment of all humanity'. All humans who were actually deemed human, at any rate. You might even have heard of the Aryans and the "worthy few." The rest? Treated as less than cattle, less than slaves, and often as not, slaughtered outright." He paused, glaring hard at the young soldier before him. "That individual was once considered a charismatic and effective leader too. And if you think Ayestrom is any different, then either you have never truly known tyranny and despotism and the world which allows super-villainy to exist, or you happen to live in an adolescent fantasy realm where you believe anything spoon-fed to you if it's wrapped in pretty enough words. And if it's the latter that's true, then God help you and yours, because nobody else will be able to."

The young mercenary began to tremble slightly, and tore his gaze from Batman's relentless stare.

"Peut-être vous demandez ca de vos grandparents!" He suddenly burst out, shaking in anger.

Batman smiled grimly. "My grandparents and parents are dead. You ask yours."

"Non, vous ne voyez pas! Ayestrom …"

"…est méchant. He is evil. Pure and simple. He lusts for power. He doesn't require your loyalty. Only your obedience. He will discard you as a useless tool once he's achieved his ends. He has already aptly demonstrated how little he values human life. Don't delude yourself into believing otherwise. You are nothing to him."

"He is our hope, and our inspiration!" The young man struggled for words. "Il est différent!"

"No! No different. I know him. He's no better than the scum I scrape off the streets every day. Believe me, I've met many men just like him. And we have stopped many like him before. Just as we will do so again. If you don't want to take a very long fall for him, you will help us now." He stared intently at the young mercenary, willing him to listen.

"Laissez-moi tranquille! Allez-vous en!"

"I won't leave you alone, and I'm not going away. Not until you've listened to me. Écoutez!"

At the young soldier's silence, Batman abruptly stepped back completely, releasing his hold of the man's jacket altogether. The captive stood stock still for a moment, and then slowly sank down the chimney wall to the ground, obviously struggling with his emotions. After a minute, Batman crouched down to peer at him closely.

"Comment vous appellez-vous?" he asked levelly, after another moment.

The young man looked as if he were still fighting something before at last closing his eyes in defeat.

"Je m'appelle Etienne Bondue." He surprised Batman suddenly by cracking open an eyelid and asking, "Et vous?"

Batman nearly smiled. So the kid had a sense of humour after all.

"Pourquoi, je suis L'Homme de Chauve-souris, bien sur."

The merc – Etienne, Batman corrected himself – actually chuckled.

"Je m'excuse. I had to ask. And, monsieur, we really don't call you 'the Man of Bats' here, you know. Unless … unless as a joke." He ducked his head a bit. "And then it's usually 'L'Homme de Souris' seulement, oui? 'Souris' by itself? 'Man of Mice' Or Mousema-"

"C'est assez," Batman growled, "you've made your point." He tilted his head, considering his prisoner. "Not too many goons who work for criminal masterminds care to apologize after impudently demanding my true identity, followed by cracks at my expense."

"Dare I say not too many goons who work for criminal masterminds are so easily swayed from their God-given purpose by a man in a Hallowe'en mask and tights?" Etienne returned immediately, a slightly bitter tone to his voice.

Batman raised his eyebrows, and his estimation. "It's as I thought. You're much too smart and savvy a kid to be clutching onto the cape-tails of scum like Ayestrom. And I highly doubt God had very much to do with your 'purpose' here."

Etienne smiled for the first time, however faintly.

"As it may be." He was silent for a moment, and Batman watched him closely, wishing he had J'onn's ability to read mind right then. Then, the kid looked up. "Alors," he said rather hesitantly. "If I tell you what you want to know, you will protect me? J'ai fait une gaffe; I know I maybe made a mistake. Mais ... ah mon Dieu, mon seigneur ... my lord's retaliation is not to be desired." He shuddered slightly. "Qu'est-ce je fais?"

"What do you do? You do what I tell you, and you will be all right. That I promise."

Again, the hesitation was long, but Batman bit down on his impatience, and waited, watching, heart squeezed in a vice.

_ This has to work. I have to help him. Clark ..._

"You will offer your League's protection?"

His eyes snapped back to Etienne at the sudden, fearful words. "Yes." There was no denying the steel in Batman's voice.

"Even … even if I don't have all that much useful information for you?"

"My word is given, Monsieur Bondue. The Justice League stands by its promises." He resisted the urge to lick his dry lips, and pushed back the hope that had flared.

"Mais … I am not very high in rank, non?"

"I never would have deduced that," Batman said dryly.

Etienne almost gave a shy grin, and slowly rose to his feet, propping himself against the brick wall for support. He looked over the edge of the roof with a troubled look, and Batman watched him warily, in case he should made a sudden bolt for it, and his compliance had merely been a charade. But after a moment, Etienne turned back to him, drawing in a deep breath and squaring his shoulders.

"You do not offer me many options."

"No. I don't. I can't afford to."

"So … I suppose I ought to have quit with the cigarettes, eh? Je ne vais pas fumer encore!" He looked rueful. "Maman tried so hard to sway me from coming out here. But ... mes amis … they all came too. We all thought ... c'est un grand aventure, oui? The lord Ayestrom, he was so persuasive. And to betray him …I … you cannot know …" He was trembling slightly, Batman saw.

"You will save many lives," he said firmly. "Including your own." The mercenary was still looking more irresolute than convinced. Batman grit his teeth. "Would your mother really want to see her son party to brutal kidnappings and murder?"

Bondue's head shot up. "What are you talking about, monsieur? There has been nothing ..." He stopped at the look that must have been evident on Batman's face, masked or not. "Hein? Qu-est-ce qui se passe?"

"Surely even a man in your position has heard rumours or news of illicit activities occurring at the main base - and throughout the world? I have difficulty believing that you could be completely ignorant of current events."

"Je ... je ne sais pas. We are not allowed to watch television or listen to the radio. There had been some talk among the les garçons, oui, but only of the glorious battles in other places where we are told great victories against the so-called superheroes have taken place."

"Unbelievable." Batman frowned. "Then, you have heard nothing of the mass abduction of children and foreign ambassadors?"

Etienne's eyes opened wide. "That cannot be! Our lord is no criminal or petty terrorist, monsieur! He wants what is best ..."

Batman grit his teeth. "It happened. And in the process, not only was the Earth itself endangered, but major cities around the globe suffered damage and casualties, especially in the city of Metropolis. And people ... innocent _people_, were murdered. In cold blood." His gaze bore into Etienne's. "And that would include children."

"Les enfants ...?" Etienne whispered, his eyes round with horror.

Batman nodded shortly and regarded Etienne unflinchingly.

Etienne stared long and hard back at him. "Je vu." He drew in a breath, and his expression cleared. "D'accord." He licked his lips and then met Batman's gaze. "I believe you. I do not fully understand why, but I do. If you will protect me, I will do my best to help you."

Batman closed his eyes. "Merci."

"I would say 'de rien', but it is not likely that it will really be nothing, n'est-ce pas?"

"Not likely, no."

Etienne swallowed and then nodded once before lifting his head. "Alors, puis, quand est-ce que je peux connaître tes amis? That is, ah, when shall I get to meet your vaunted teammates?" He asked this last a bit shyly, and at Batman's look, he shrugged slightly. "I must confess I have always been curious about you 'superheroes'. And your League is most famous, around the world. It is part of what attracted us to Ayestrom, I think. He ... I thought he was our own superhero, only better. Le meilleur. The best."

Batman withdrew a batarang, hefting it in one hand." "Let's get you somewhere safe first. Then, we do need to talk."

Etienne sighed resignedly. "D'accord, monsieur. But …"

"We do not have much time, Bondue. Certain individuals are in grave danger, as is the world in general." Batman straightened and looked back out at the base. "More knowledge about Ayestrom is our first order of business."

Etienne looked at him with fear for the first time since being hoisted up on the roof. "Can … can you do it? Our Übermensch is very, very powerful. You do not know…"

"Übermensch?" Batman questioned sharply, swinging back around so quickly that Etienne took an involuntary step backwards.

"Ah, oui. C'est … it is what we are to call Lord Ayestrom amongst ourselves. At his direct command." Batman's gaze narrowed. "Is that … significant?" Etienne asked hesitantly, obviously not certain how to interpret Batman's sudden, disturbing silence.

"It may be," Batman said at last. "Or not. At this point, any information is of value."

"Monsieur?" The young mercenary looked almost tremulous.

"What is it?" Batman hadn't meant to snap, but worry fused his voice.

"Je repète …can your JLA oppose him? There are many who have said that none have been born with such vision, or such power. We are told, even the youth, we would be fools not to follow him into glory."

"You would be fools _to_ follow him too."

"That may be, but you, pour certain, will be risking all of your lives in defying his will."

Batman forced an impatient sigh out instead of the vicious retort he had been ready with.

"We have no other choice. Do you not see that yet? If we do not stand up to him, there are very few left who can. And his brand of terrorism simply cannot be tolerated. Not now. Not ever." Batman frowned at his uncharacteristic eloquence. Usually he left all the speech-making to Superman or one of the others. "We have always stood between evil and the freedom and rights of the people. That is what the League does. And that is what _I_ do."

Etienne bit his lip, hard.

"Then … you really do not know what it is you are facing." He hesitated. "You do understand that he is toying with you, n'est-ce pas?" Batman stared down at him with hooded eyes. "Ayestrom wants you and your compatriots here. He wants it more than anything else. He wants to see your JLA actually try to – what's the English word – to _thwart_ his plans. This is his goal. That is why he has the hostages. Screw the U.N. Screw your president! M. Batman, he wants you to fight him. He believes in the old world system of rule, of "Right by Combat". Do you not see? He desires more than anything else for you people to come to him, on his own ground, on his terms, so that he can prove to the world which of you is truly righteous, who is better, who is more powerful. Even … more _just_." Batman's face was absolutely unreadable. Etienne drew a breath and plunged on. "Tout le monde sait que je dit la vérité. It is the truth. We all know this. He plans everything to draw you heroes to battle, so that he may … 'take you down' in the sight of the world. And ultimately, he conspires to ... to humiliate you." He hesitated, and looked a little afraid at the utter coldness that must have been radiating from Batman's masked visage. "And, monsieur … he can do it, too."

Batman stared long and hard at this boy he had captured or liberated – he was no longer certain which – from the enemy camp. The young man stared back, daunted, but unmoving. He reached a decision as swiftly as he reached for his communicator.

"Oracle," he barked. "Come in."

"Hey, Boss," came the clear, instantaneous reply. "I was just about to contact you. Psychic, now, are we?"

Batman wasted no time on pleasantries.

"Tell Superman to get out. Now."

"What? You're kidding, right? Why?"

"Never mind. Just do it."

"But …"

"Abort the mission, Oracle," Batman snarled. "Now!"

"Batman, it's too late," she replied, apparently alarmed at his tone. "That's why I was about to alert you. Superman's been able to breach the final security perimeter. He's in."

Batman almost growled in frustration.

"It's not too late. Order him to retreat."

"That's the thing. I can't. He's in temporary silent running mode. There seems to be powerful detection devices planted all over that sub-basement he's currently infiltrating. There's no turning back now." She paused, obviously worried. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

Batman looked out over the brightening rooftops to the east where the first tinges of dawn were visible in the somber, overcast sky. Etienne shivered suddenly as he watched him.

"Batman?" came again Oracle's questioning, fearful voice. "What is it?"

"It's a trap," he answered finally, bleakly. "And we've all just walked straight into it."

And thoughts churning, the tension knotted so tightly in his gut that it became acute pain, he closed down the line of communication with an audible and ominous snap.

--

**Next:** We find out just what kind of trouble Superman is getting into. Stay tuned!


	8. Inferno Part 1

A/N: This part was so long, just like in Part 2, "Stratagem", I'm forced to divide it up into two! I'll post the second half as soon as I can, but meanwhile, here's the seventh part, first half, for your reading pleasure. Hope you enjoy! - Pax : -)

******JLA**

**"****Necessary Force"**

**By Paxwolf**

******Note: **This fanfiction story originally was begun some years ago, and is therefore set current to the (comic book version!) _JLA_ lineup at the time, specifically during the Grant Morrison and Mark Waid runs on the title, and with certain details from that era still intact. It is therefore an 'older' story, and has taken several years to see fruition, and therefore be aware that certain discrepancies and dated information - in terms of continuity - may still be contained within.

******Disclaimer:** Superman_, _Batman_,_ _The Justice League of America _and its associated characters are owned and copyrighted by DC Comics and Time Warner. No income is being generated by the Internet publication of this story. Which really is quite a pity as I am dirt poor – and it would be oh so fun to be able to earn a living playing in DC's grand Playground! (Lucky, lucky pro writers and artists!!) Original characters do also exist in this fic and I suppose that might make them owned by me. ;-)

******Warnings:** Violence, Some Language, and Mature Themes. Readers' Discretion is advised. Also, terms and phrases in languages other than English are included.**  
**

******Thanks To**: Kungfunurse, without whose skilled beta-reading and sweet encouragement this epic may never have been posted, and to the kind and helpful (years-long!) feedback supplied by the gracious **Gwil** and the lovely **Janet Coleman Sides**, both of whom stepped out of their own fandoms (_Stargate:SG-1_ and _Gatchaman_ respectively) in order to read about the denizens of the DC Universe. Also thanks to the several wonderful encouragers and readers who haven't given up on me, and my persistent hounders, especially Jen in Japan who won't let me forget that this story needs to be continued and finished, and all of you lovely readers and friends, thanks so much for keeping me going!

******Part VII:**

******"Inferno"**

******(Part A)**  


** T**he first of five sub-level basements so far did not look anything like what most people imagined the secret hideout of a would-be super-villain and international terrorist should. Superman wryly reflected on the stereotypes of the business as he stealthily navigated through the winding series of corridors and storerooms. He was careful to keep every one of his senses strained at maximum sensitivity, and took copious pains to not lessen his mental concentration as he moved with caution down through level after level of the massive base.

Every sixty metres or so he had pinpointed – with some surprising effort - one of the power scanners Oracle and Black Canary had warned the League about. These he circumnavigated quite solicitously, but these detours served to slow his progress to an almost painful degree. In several instances only his keen hearing alerted him to the invisible and nearly inaudible presence of hidden detectors obviously wired to trigger at close proximity to a moving heat source. X-ray and microscopic visions were both really getting a workout, having saved his bacon numerous times, and he blessed his unusual gifts once again. Nevertheless, it had taken him over four and half-hours to simply get as far into the base as he had, and frustration and anxiety were beginning to grow unchecked within him. If he hadn't possessed greater than average stamina – and patience – the weariness and tension of the constant vigilance would have overwhelmed him long ago. As it was, with his strength ebbing dangerously close to its limits, he was forced to muster a large part of his not-inconsiderable will to press on as meticulously as ever.

_Better to go painfully and painstakingly slow, and be utterly thorough, than be_ _quick, careless, and dead_! he thought with a wry smile.

Too much was riding on this mission – and too many, he reminded himself harshly whenever he entertained the thought of resting – to risk failure now. But his progress was impeded by so many observational and alarm gadgets, including the ever-present scanners, video cameras, and mics, that after another hour of winding through a succession of dark hallways, flitting from hiding spot to hiding spot as armed guards stalked past, Superman began to despair of ever making it to a place where useful information could actually be gathered.

_Not to mention the human element clogging the place, both sentries and civilian residents_, he sighed after skillfully but narrowly avoiding another troop of mercenaries. _They're really packing them in here. _

He checked the time, and worried again about getting enough useful Intel within the prescribed time limit before he was to extricate himself and rendezvous with Batman and Aquaman.

He tried to calculate whether it was safe to attempt another contact with Oracle. He recalled with crystal clarity their most recent exchange, though it oddly felt as if days had passed since instead of mere hours.

He had just dispatched then a set of guards, whisking away their oxygen so that they would think they'd merely fallen asleep on watch, and then ducked a pair of cameras before slipping over a high wall into the base's bastion proper.

"Oracle," he'd whispered into his tiny comm. "I'm in."

He had crouched in the semi-shielded corner of a large, terraced garden landscaped on a lower level rooftop, surreptitiously performing his own scan of this inner sanction.

"That was quick," came Oracle's softly voiced reply, attuned especially for extra-normal hearing. "Dare I even say 'speeding-bullet' quick?"

Superman grinned tightly.

"Well, I've got to maintain the reputation, you know. The media can be merciless."

"So I understand. And you'd know better than most."

Superman rose silently from his crouch after a patrol of guards had marched obliviously by, and half-ran, half-crawled to the far wall, where he flattened himself against an ivy-covered lattice just as a high-tech camcorder panned in his direction. Even in his present malodorous outfit, an underground inhabitant of the base would never be found strolling through an apparently exclusive garden intended for the upper echelons of Ayestrom's command hierarchy. Particularly at three o'clock in the morning. Wiser by far to be invisible than be forced to rely on his disguise, clever as it was.

"Batman and the Manhunter aren't very happy with you, by the way," Oracle suddenly said, as if making a casual remark on the weather.

Superman grimaced, feeling the prosthetic scarring stretch across his face, and leaned his head out for the fraction of a second it took to memorize all details of the garden's layout, including the guards' projected movements.

"Believe me, I noticed. They never do enjoy anyone else going out on a limb for the team, even when it's an unavoidable business."

"Particularly you."

"Me? I highly doubt that," he scoffed, before darting out in a blur of super-speed through an upper-level window at the precise moment when all scanners, cameras, and guards were fractionally looking elsewhere.

Oracle chuckled. "Perhaps you don't know them as well as you think, O intrepid hero. At least not where their thoughts concern _you_."

"Oh, and you do?" he countered, keeping still as a statue as he took in his new surroundings to the last detail.

"Well, I am a master of information, you might recall," she said archly, "and this topic could lead to a most enlightening and entertaining debate. In fact, I believe certain reserve League members already engage in said activity. I mean, it's not like they have anything more important to do than idly gossip about senior members in order to occupy their copious amounts of spare time, or anything."

Deeming it safe to move, Superman silently slid the window closed behind him and hunkered down below the ledge, carefully scanning the room for signs of security. It appeared to be a music chamber of sorts, and despite the dimness he could see it was lavishly outfitted in a Viennese Baroque décor, even furnished with a free-standing harp and a pair of polished Steinway Grands. And was that an actual antique harpsichord in the corner? Unbelievable.

_ How very cultured of the madman_, Superman thought distractedly. _Is he next going to perform a concerto for the hostages?_

"Guy Gardner, Booster Gold, Blue Beetle, Green Flame, by any chance?" he asked aloud, directing his nearly soundless voice to the miniscule communicator fastened on the inside of the collar of his ragged, filthy t-shirt. Anyone nearby would never have heard a thing, nor seen the decrepit maintenance worker even move his lips.

The amusement in Oracle's voice was apparent. "How'd you guess?"

He absently noted the sheet music on a stand was opened to Wagner's "Ride of the Valkryies", while the intricately complex "Fantasie Impromptu" by Chopin was resting on the gleaming surface of one of the pianos. He had mastered the difficult piece when he was ten. It had been one of his very favourites while studying classical music under Smallville's notoriously strict but brilliant music instructor Ms. Chan. The Kents had made sure he had hidden his prodigy-like mastery of the instrument, and though he seldom had the opportunity to play any more, he had never forgotten.

"Oh, I just happened once to, uh, over_hear_ the group of them yakking about the former Batgirl's, ahem, attributes, where they then proceeded to speculate about her, um, 'relationship' to a certain nameless detective." He bit down on his own grin.

"You shamelessly eavesdropped on a private conversation amongst your colleagues? _You_?" Oracle sounded scandalized. Superman knew better.

"In my defence, at the time I needed to arm myself against a brutal interrogation about Diana and er, myself, and well, since that little group likes to get embroiled in ridiculous wagers about the rest of us, I sort of figured ..."

"Oh, you mean the way you 'armed yourself' that time Ted got J'onn so loaded on an Oreo sugar high during Ray and Jean's anniversary party at _Warriors_, that he was led to dare _you_, the unflappable, noble, moral, role-model-for-the-rest-of-us Man of Tomorrow, to stri…"

"How did you find out about _that_?" Superman demanded, freezing in his tracks, absolutely mortified.

"I have my sources," came the smug reply. "And I arm myself accordingly too."

"Yes, but that's … that's just …" He struggled uselessly to find the right words.

"Well, _you're_ the one who took that dare. _You_ live with the consequences."

Superman winced. "But …"

"Fear not, O Man of brittly-thin, extra-exposed skin," Oracle proclaimed majestically. "I'd only sell _your_ secrets to the highest of bidders. And no one's come close to matching my price yet."

Superman inwardly groaned. Why _had_ he taken that dare? He was positive that J'onn had done some mental tinkering in his brain while under the influence of Oreo ingestion. Because otherwise he never would have allowed himself to be outmaneuvered as he'd been. Not if he had been in his right mind.

I hadn't realized anyone else knew about it - and those present all swore on their mothers that they'd never breathe a word!

He had meant to confront J'onn about it the next day, but never had got around to it. He supposed he really should stop procrastinating about that some day.

He opened his mouth to reply before he abruptly noticed that certain tiles in the polished marble floor were slightly more inset than were others.

_Weight sensors._

One miss-step while this room was activated and he'd trip the alarm and the whole security grid would light up like a Christmas tree, and the proverbial cat would be out of the bag before he had time for the flush to fade from his face.

Slightly impressed, he rose an inch into the air and floated silently over the rigged surface to the single interior door. Pausing before it, he could see nothing amiss, but he carefully extended a hand anyway, holding it a few inches from the wood of the door. His extra-sensitive skin felt the minute energy crackling at readiness just below the oaken façade.

"Ever considered doing a spread – I mean, professionally?" Oracle was teasing. "From what I hear, you could make a killing. So to speak." She gave a dramatic sigh. "Damn, I always miss the best parties. I should have been there in person. But I do happen know a good photographer I could set you up with ... I'd be happy to act as your agent. We'd just rake it in."

"Barbara …" Superman said warningly, feeling the blush creep further up his face. He tried to concentrate on the innocent-looking door.

"Think about it. You could always donate your cut of our take to charity. And you know, come to think of it, that whole party incident could be a blessing in disguise. It'll be quite the story to pass down into infamy when they're all regaling each other with tales of your heroic deeds, and every time the accolades start to go to your head, I could swoop in and save the day with a few choice shots."

Superman snorted, but continued to scan the door, puzzled by the origins of the energy.

"So, you're clearly not interested." She sighed again. "The loss of ladies everywhere. Ah well. I'll keep the party story in reserve then." She paused. "I do, however, condescend to accept the occasional bribe," Oracle finally prompted, obviously concerned at his lack of further verbal response. "For the right favour, I might be persuaded to keep certain events and stories … to myself."

"You're blackmailing _me_? How very corrupt of you." He shook his head sadly. "Batman's been an excellent teacher." Superman studied the door as Oracle's tiny voice snorted with muffled laughter. "And just what could I possible offer you to … maintain continued silence on the subject?"

"Oh, I think I could come up with an idea or two. Hmm. Yes. It is _you_, after all. It doesn't exactly require a great deal of imagination."

Superman raised his eyebrows at that, but decided the better part of chivalry prohibited an appropriate response, instead concentrating on thinking a way around the touch-triggered door.

"Encountering difficulties?" Oracle asked, the amusement fading away.

"Let's just say Ayestrom, or his chief of security, has to be a severely committable paranoiac. This base is more secure than the Pentagon and Fort Knox combined."

"Am I to take that insight as personal experience on your part?"

"I'd really rather not incriminate myself by answering that. Particularly now that I'm aware of how you so conscientiously guard others' secrets."

Oracle's soft "Touché" and chuckle was oddly reassuring as he slowly, inch by patient inch, blew a whisper of breath over the entire surface of the door, freezing it in nearly imperceptible degrees, thus nullifying the touch-sensitive alarms. Still hovering a centimeter above the floor, he finally gave the most minute of pushes after a quick glance straight through the solid wood to the empty hallway without. The heavy door softly broke the frozen seal and swung open, the hinges, he noticed, on the opposite side to most doors. Odd.

Seeing an ornate but normally laid floor, Superman touched down lightly and paused to thoroughly peer around said hallway.

It seemed deserted.

Just as he was drawing in a breath and preparing to step slowly into the center of the corridor, his ears detected the faintest of whirring sounds. He instantly zeroed in on the camera hidden behind a two-way mirror a few metres down the hall, panning invisibly towards him. In a flash that Wally would have been proud of, he zipped around the corner at superspeed, calculating his velocity to be just within invisibility range and just below what it would take to engender a sonic boom.

And then had to perform an abrupt mid-air flip to avoid a deadly collision with two patrolling guards.

_ Thank Rao for hair-trigger reflexes_, he thought a little wildly, holding his breath as he flattened himself against the high-arched dark ceiling directly above the two armed sentries. _Please don't let them think to look up__!_

--

**To Be Continued!**


	9. Inferno Part 2

**A/N:** Hi folks! This is the second half of Part VII: "Inferno", as it was such a long Part that I had to divvy it up into two bits. (and again, apologies for the delay in between parts. It's terrible when Real Life interferes with one's hobbies, isn't it? ;-) Part 8 will hopefully be completed and posted very soon.) Thanks!

**Title**: JLA: Necessary Force - Part 7: "Inferno" (2nd Half)

**Fandom:** _JLA/Justice League  
_**Rating: ** PG-13 (R in parts) **  
Warnings**: Mature Situations, Language, Violence - (oh, and **Foreign Language Alert!**)

**Disclaimer: ** The JLA and its characters are owned by DC Comics/Time Warner. Original Characters are mine, I suppose, but either way, no money is being made hereabouts.  
**Summary:** When a powerful terrorist threatens the safety of the planet, the League must go to extremes to stop him, and Superman and Batman may have to make the biggest sacrifice of all.  
**Summary of This Part:** Superman finally begins his infiltration of the Evil Bad Guy's Lair, with a little help (and a little hindrance) from his team.

******JLA**  
**"Necessary Force"**

**By Paxwolf**

******Part VII**

******"Inferno"**

******(Part 2)**

**S**uperman clung hard to the ornate ceiling, not even daring to breathe. _Please_, he silently implored the sentries, knowing what was at stake. _Don't think to look up!_

"Wat? Zijn er …?" one asked, startled, glancing around.

"Ik weet het niet," the second cut him off, and cocked his weapon.

"Hoe …?"

"Hou je kop!"

It was funny, Superman thought, pressing himself more tightly against the ceiling, how 'shut up' sounded pretty universal in any language.

Both guards were looking around cautiously, hands on their triggers.

"Het waait. Waarom?"

Superman swallowed at their words. They had felt the breeze of his superspeed pass. He watched them glance into the adjoining rooms, searching for a window that might be open.

"Waarom?" the first asked again in Dutch, still thankfully not thinking to look up, and obviously puzzled at seeing nothing amiss.

_ Because_, Superman urged silently, _there must be an open door somewhere on the floor. Be good little guards and go investigate_.

"Het doet er niet. Ayestrom." The second guard shrugged nonchalantly.

"Naturrlijk," the first agreed, and jerked his head towards the corner, and both set off, eyeing the hall alertly.

_ Not alertly enough_, Superman thought with a wry smile_. Veelgeluk, my friends, _he added silently as he released his breath in relief.

He began to crawl spider-like along the curved ceiling, feeling safer up there, keeping his fingertips against the stucco, and strained to sense any further security devices.

"That was a close one," he murmured softly in English after a space.

He consciously slowed his hyperventilated breathing and frantic heartbeat. Normally he wouldn't have reacted to such an extreme, he thought disgustedly. But there was so much at stake, and he was far from his ordinary state of good health. At least the others couldn't possibly know of his less than perfect physical status.

"Are you all right?" Oracle demanded in his ear. "Your pulse just shot up like a bat out of hell. Excuse the expression."

Superman frowned in sudden suspicion. Then again …

"What, did Batman plant a shielded medic sensor in this outfit somewhere?"

"Another good guess. Ever thought about a deductive or investigative line of work?"

"Been there, done that. And please tell Batman he's getting rather predictable in his old age."

"He'll hate to hear that."

"Oh, don't I know it."

"What _is_ it with you two?" Oracle said in mock exasperation. "I swear sometimes you both start in on each other like itty-bitty children, each trying to out-brat the other. Honestly, it's enough to drive a mature, sensible, above-that-sort-of-thing person to drink."

Superman snorted, only too aware of the nature of Barbara's _discussions_ with Nightwing and Dinah. He slipped into a connecting corridor.

"I think Bruce definitely takes the cake in the brattiness department," he asserted defensively. "_I'm_ Mister Goody Two-Shoes, remember?"

This time the snort was on Oracle's side. "To those who don't know the _real _you, maybe. Helluva reputation you've got going there, Clark."

He shrugged, still carefully scanning the walls and floor, easily bypassing another meta-power detector. "If the boot fits …"

"And then there are times," Oracle added, just as if she were continuing her earlier rant, "that the two of you seem to argue just for the sake of argument. Like an old married couple or something."

Superman found he didn't really have a response to that assertion, and was gratefully distracted by a much more powerful Meta scanner at the stairwell's entrance. "Hold that thought. Ah, better yet, why not let it go?"

"I'll think about it," Oracle said primly. "For a small fee."

Superman rolled his eyes and was forced to make a wide, difficult detour around the scanner by slipping in and out of the floor's windows, dropping unseen another two storeys.

It hadn't taken him long to determine that very little of value or interest lay in the upper floors of the estate, and it was almost accidentally, by his shadowing a purposefully moving mercenary, that he discovered the vast labyrinth of underground levels hidden far beneath the mansion's basement. So much lead had lined the ceilings and floors that X-ray vision could not see past the ground.

Following his instincts, Superman slowly struggled ever downwards, bit by bit, descending through the depths of the increasingly complex – and booby-trapped – maze. He tried not to think of how metaphoric the descent into the depths of the base was, especially as the temperature rose significantly each level he managed to get down.

Dante would have had a field day with this set-up.

Twice he had been forced to cut communications with Oracle completely, fearing the incredibly sensitive listening sensors would pick up even their sub-auditory conversations. All the while he was painfully aware of the precious minutes ticking away. Already he was in danger of not being able to get back out in time to make his rendezvous with the others. But after coming so far, at such effort, he couldn't quite bring himself to turn around with so little new information gained and still no clue as to the whereabouts of the hostages.

Were the hostages even being held at this location? Were the children all right? Were they even still alive? And was Ayestrom himself present at this base? What powers did he possess? If he manifested even a modicum of telepathic power like J'onn's, as they had been told, then this mission was already doomed. But none of their intelligence or analyses thus far had revealed a likelihood of that kind of power, and so the League had taken the risk of proceeding with the infiltration. Superman fervently hoped it would all be worth it. They could not allow any more assaults like the ones in Metropolis, Rio de Janeiro, and Canada. They had to know more about the predicament of the hostages before the UN Security Forces - or Luthor – did, so that they themselves could finalize their plans and safeguard as many lives as possible before more military-minded heads took over.

_Know your enemy_, he thought with a sigh, pausing to catch his alarmingly short breath and gather strength to press on. And this enemy had been notorious for keeping to the shadows, even in the months after he'd tipped his hand to the world. It had been extraordinarily difficult to find out anything concrete about him at all. Not entirely unlike a certain ally he could mention.

He smiled a humourless smile, suddenly wishing Batman were with him. Having someone he trusted to watch his back would have felt extremely reassuring right then.

_Listen to me_, he thought with a shake of his head. _So much for the lone wolf act. Guess I'm getting overly accustomed to working with a team these days_.

He strained his senses in a wide perimeter around, over, and below his position, and, satisfied at his relative security, hunkered down in a black corner of the dank fifth level basement before reactivating his tiny communicator.

"Oracle? Still with me?"

"Superman! Thank God," came the instantaneous response. "Are you all right?"

"Of course. Sorry to …"

"There's no 'of course' about it," snapped Oracle.

"Superman blinked.

"You're a little more worked up over a period of necessary silence than I'd anticipated."

He heard a sigh, and the nearly imperceptible sound of fingers rubbing against eyes.

"Sorry. But you were incommunicado for over fifty minutes, and I couldn't …"

"It was unavoidable. My apologies for worrying you."

"If you think I sounded distressed, you should hear Batman and the others."

Superman almost laughed. "Surely you exaggerate."

"Wish I was. For grown men, they're really such whiny babies."

"Ah … I don't feel qualified to remark on that."

"Look, you're obviously secure, at least for the moment, right?"

Superman instantly felt uneasiness wash over him. "Why? What's …"

"Batman says you're to abort the mission. Get out as safely and quickly as you can."

"I have yet to locate the hostages," Superman said, surprised. "Nor have I gathered enough applicable data regard-…"

"That doesn't matter right now. Get yourself out of there."

"It does most certainly matter," Superman said tightly, alarm and anger flashing through him equally. "It took me a fair degree of effort just to get this far. And I'm _not_ leaving those children without…"

"Yes, you are," growled out a deeper, familiar voice suddenly.

"Batman," Superman sighed. "You can't be serious. I'm nearly at the deepest levels here. I can't just …"

"You can and you will. And I am deadly serious." He could hear Batman forcibly gain control of his voice. "Get out. Now."

"Is this going to deteriorate into one of those ridiculous arguments we seem to engage in weekly?"

"Now!"

"The hostages …" Superman tried.

"The _hostages_," Batman ground out, "are there primarily for your benefit. We've discussed this."

"And we didn't settle it then either."

"Let me put it plainly that it might get through your overly altruistic head. They're bait. For you." Batman paused. "It's a trap."

Superman shut his eyes briefly. If that were the case …

"So what else is new?" he only said aloud. "It doesn't change anything."

"It certainly does, you stubborn fool!" Superman could hear Batman pause and draw a deep breath. "Look. I've been able to acquire new information since we last spoke. And those hostages are in place precisely to lure you, and any of the rest of us who could manage to make it in there, right into Ayestrom's lap. You're a sitting …"

"I get it already," Superman said through clenched teeth. "But that doesn't alter the situation of those people one iota. We can't just ignore the peri…"

"You can't help them if you end up another Ayestrom victim yourself, Kal," sounded the clear-voiced reason of Diana. "Come back to us in one piece, and _then_ we can reconsider our battle strategy."

"Especially since it's increasingly apparent that _you_ are the prime intended 'victim' here," snapped the rougher voice of the Dark Knight.

Superman struggled to keep a lid on his temper, a more arduous task than usual in his fatigue.

"Batman, your little theory holds about as much water as a sieve. Ayestrom …"

"You mean the Übermensch, don't you?"

"What?"

"We don't have time for this!" Aquaman's baritone shouted in the background.

"Kal-El. Come home. That is an order," a calmer voice now interjected.

"Ah, J'onn," Superman sighed, wearily scrubbing a hand over his face. "I suppose it's a consensus then. You're all going to gang up on me here?"

"We are. We have new information, and new evidence to weigh," J'onn said implacably. "Now please work your way back out to us."

"We will take care of the hostages as soon as we are able," Diana promised.

"End the mission, Kal-El. Return."

"Immediately," Batman commanded.

"But …"

"Please, Kal. I know you don't want to leave those people, none of us do, but you really need to accept the truth of this."

Superman closed his eyes and slumped back against the crates in the corner. If he'd learned nothing else in his JLA experiences, it was that he knew when to trust his teammates.

"All right." He released a long, defeated-sounding breath. "All right, Diana. I'm none too happy about it, but I understand your reasons." He quivered a moment as a sudden chill swept through him. "Oracle, kindly inform Masters Bruce and J'onn to keep their shorts on. I am acquiescing to their oh so gentle … request."

"Funny talk coming from you, O Man of Impeccable Fashion Design." He could clearly hear the relief in Oracle's voice under the bantering tone.

"Blame my ma," he only muttered as he rose stiffly to his feet.

Oracle had obviously heard him anyway.

"Well, let her know sometime I love the overall primaries scheme of the suit. Oh, and the cape. Always the cape."

"Always the cape?" he repeated, eyebrows nearing his hairline, beginning to emerge cautiously from his hiding place.

"Oh yes. It's a big hit among females aged 15 to 45. Those red boots too. Didn't you know?"

"Know what?" Superman asked, beginning to wish he had nipped this line of dialogue in the bud. Oracle seemed at times to take a perverse delight in making him as uncomfortable as humanly - or Kryptonianly - possible.

"The number two reported young adult and adolescent fantasy is seeing you aloft in your natural element, adorned in the cape and boots, of course." She paused before letting the other shoe drop. "Um, shorts optional."

Superman blushed furiously, all at once extremely glad none of the others could see his face right then. Especially since he was having more difficulty than usual in controlling his physiological responses.

"I somehow doubt that he's been keeping up with Cosmos' latest polls," a new voice deadpanned. Wally. "A tad busy breaking international law, I suspect."

"Hmm," Oracle remarked. "Fascinating dermal heat reading I'm detecting here. Your medical sensor appears to be operating at peak efficiency, Boss."

Superman clenched his jaw harder, feeling the blood suffuse his cheeks all over again.

"Enough of this inane chatter," Batman broke in, the frown obvious in his tone. "It is imperative that we stick to business and drop this nonsense immediately."

_ Thank you, Bruce_, thought Superman gratefully.

"S'funny coming from you," Oracle volleyed shamelessly. "Since guess who takes the number _one _spot in said survey?"

"And you don't wanna know _how_ you're dressed in it – or not," Flash added with a wicked chortle.

Superman grinned a little at the sudden telling silence. _What's good for the goose …_

"And just how would _you_ know about that, Wally?" insinuated Kyle's voice now. "Something you been wanting to tell us?"

"Hey, it's all Linda's fault, man," came the inevitable protest. "You wouldn't believe the stuff she makes me listen to on lazy Sunday mornings!"

"Oh, and boys," Oracle purred, "you should know that these surveys are worldwide. And by the way, they're given to _both_ genders."

_ She's really a very evil woman_, Superman contemplated as giggles erupted from Kyle and Wally_. I never knew._

He suddenly sensed the air pressure in the room decrease ever so slightly. He concentrated and heard the telltale hiss of distantly opening elevator doors. Even in the darkness, he reflexively ducked out of sight, heart hammering against his ribs.

"Everyone clear the line," Batman was ordering, his scowl nearly audible. "And please comport yourselves more like professionals from here on in. This is a serious situation, and we are not playing games here. Superman, can you get …"

"Excellent suggestion," Superman whispered, spotting multiple flashlight beams reflecting off the grimy ceiling, slowly advancing towards his position in the dark, and hearing the heavy tread of booted feet increase in volume. "Because I've got company."

--

**********Next:** Superman is less than impressed with his host's hospitality, and who knew that being multi-lingual could actually come in so handy?

--

As always, comments, thoughts, critiques, and such are very much appreciated. Don't be afraid to let me know what you think! Thank you!! - Pax :-)


	10. In the Teeth of It Part 1

**Author's Note:**

Hello, dear readers!

Well, firstly, my sincere apologies to any loyal reader who still may be with me after such a long hiatus in between chapters! I certainly never intended it to take so very long to update, but with an especially stressful and busy period of time recently, I couldn't seem to get many chances to write or post here, I'm afraid! Sorry about the delay! I also didn't think there were many people even reading this fic here, but recently I looked at my Stats and the number of hits, and there are a surprising number of them. (just awfully quiet ones, except for a few outspoken, commenty sorts.) So, I shall keep updating here on after all. (and to make up for the long absence, I will post several parts all at once today! Really!)

For those more comfortable with Livejournal, I do post links to this story at several DC Fic-related comms (to my own journal) too, and tend to get into more detailed discussions and fun analysis of the characters and story with friends and readers, so please do feel free to check out the story there. The main page and Table of Contents are at paxwolf./23762.html . Pop by and peruse, if you'd like! And of course you're very welcome to leave comments there should you feel so inclined, even if you don't have an LJ account, as I accept Anonymous feedback on my journal as well. grin

So, without further ado, here are Parts 8 and 9, presented in four chapters! I hope you enjoy! :-)

- Paxwolf the Procrastinator blush

--

**Title**: JLA: Necessary Force - Part 8: "In the Teeth of It" (1st Half)

**Author:** Paxwolf

**Fandom:** _JLA/Justice League  
_**Rating: ** PG-13 (R in parts)

**Disclaimer:** The JLA and its characters are owned by DC Comics and Time Warner. The OC's are, I suppose, owned by me!**  
Warnings**: Mature Situations, Language, Violence - (oh, and more **Foreign Language Alert!**)  
**Summary:** When a powerful terrorist threatens the safety of the planet, the Justice League must go to extremes to stop him, and Superman and Batman may have to make the biggest sacrifice of all.  
**Summary of This Part:** Our heroes start to realize the mammoth scale of Lord Ayestrom's designs, and Superman is less than impressed with his host's hospitality.

******JLA : Necessary Force**

******by Paxwolf**

**  
****Part VIII:**

******"In the Teeth of It"**

(1st half)

******T**he tread of heavily booted feet grew ever louder in the confined space between the rows of stacked crates as Superman crouched in the darkness, heart beating rather more quickly than normal.

"Sentries?" Oracle asked, voice low.

"It appears so," he answered quietly, peering through the walls.

The tension on the open channel became almost palpable.

"Can you evade them?" Batman asked tersely.

"I'm trying. I've managed countless times so far. It's probably just another routine patrol."

But already he could tell it wasn't. From the sounds of their movements, the approaching patrol seemed intent on much more than a mere casual look around. Superman cast a quick study of the ceiling. It was too low to float up to and still be out of sight. _ Dammit._

The hushed voices of two men and a woman carried to where he was pressed between the heavy crates, although he was certain anyone else wouldn't have heard a thing.

"Hast Du …?" The one in the lead suddenly asked quietly.

"Ja, stimnt," another asserted, equally sotto voce.

Superman froze. Somehow they had detected something out of the ordinary.

"Fuer wie lange?"

"Ich bin mir nicht sicher," answered the female voice. A faint whirring sound could be briefly heard from the equipment they were carrying.

"Ah! Driezehn Minuten!"

_ What_ was thirteen minutes? Superman wondered, his heart in his mouth. He looked frantically around again, but still no clear sign of escape miraculously appeared.

"Gut," the leader grunted. "Ich habe verstanden."

_ Understood what? _What_ does he understand?_

Superman was more certain than ever that the troop was looking for whatever out-of-place thing their mysterious device had picked up on, and with its aid, would more than likely be able to soon track him down. And soon. Forcing himself push aside the slight feeling of panic, he scanned all around the huge basement level again. No exits were in sight, other than the elevator he had slipped in from. He inwardly cursed himself as he swiftly crawled into a farther crate-alley. Why had he allowed himself to be cornered like this?

_ Okay, options_, _Clark_, he told himself fiercely. _Focus. Fight or flee_.

If he crept out of the cavernous storage basement at superspeed, he might be able to slip past the patrol and reach the exit, but the meta-power scanners along each side of the room would register his excess movement in an eyeblink.

If he took a stand and fought back, he could certainly take them all out, but it could be only seconds before every soldier and mercenary in the base would be alerted to his presence, including the possibility of Ayestrom himself. And that would do neither the League nor the hostages any good.

That left only one possible move he could make, risky as it was.

Clenching his jaw, backing into a corner, he withdrew the splintery walking stick from his ragged belt, and let himself collapse bonelessly into a loose sprawl on the concrete floor. The voices grew in volume as their owners approached closer to his position. He spotted the gleam of flashlights on the ceiling as the patrol rounded the bend at the end of his section. He was mere seconds from being discovered. He closed his eyes.

If this could work …

"Superman!"

He practically jumped right out of his skin before biting his lip hard to keep from snarling into the tiny communicator.

"Do you mind?" he muttered, eyeing the approaching sentries through the solid - but fortunately lead-free - crate sidings.

"Your status?"

"I'm a bit busy here at the moment, Batman."

"Is your position … untenable?" The strain in Batman's voice was very apparent.

"You might say that," he hissed. "I'll contact you momentarily, if I can. Stand by."

He cut off his transmission, and saw the patrol halt six feet from where he huddled on the floor, directly on the other side of the stack of crates. He steeled himself and smiled a little grimly at the irony.

"Wo ist …?"

"Ich verstehe nicht," the man holding the strange device murmured.

"Eine Panne?" the leader demanded, asking if the equipment had suffered a breakdown. Superman listened closely.

"Nein. Wir sind unterbrochen worden."

Superman suddenly realized that it had to be his communicator's transmission that their scanner was picking up. But it didn't seem able to detect the minute signal when no one was actually speaking on the line.

_ Damnit_, he thought in frustration. _John Henry said these things were practically unscannable._

If only they could have stuck with J'onn's telepathic link as usual. Ayestrom's tech was good._ Too_ good.

His furiously fast thoughts around their communication obstacles were abruptly cut short as a blinding flashlight beam fell fully upon him, outlining his stilled form with garish clarity. He lay perfectly motionless except for long, even breaths, his eyes tightly shut.

"Achtung! Hier ist es!"

Three pairs of armored legs immediately surrounded him. He distinctly heard the telling clicks of several automatic weapons being primed, and the whine of building power cells. He fought to keep his eyes closed and his body deliberately relaxed, as if fast asleep, even though every nerve and muscle was screaming with tension and adrenaline.

"Was ist das?" one of the men demanded in a surprised tone.

"Hausgenosse," replied the female sentry with a cold sneer, shifting her weapon in her grip. "Der Gestanki!" Two of them made gagging sounds and laughed.

_ An inmate_? Superman thought, with a frown. _That's what they're calling these people?_ And they were definitely not impressed with his smell. Ha.

"Sie!" Superman felt a booted foot prod him harshly in the side. "Aufstehen!" He was commanded to get up. "_Jetzt!_" Now.

Superman uttered a groan and moved slightly as if just awakening, rolling partially onto his back and blinking his eyes open before squeezing them shut against the sharp light.

"Was? W-wer?" He blurted out in a tremulous voice, cracked as if with age.

"Steh auf! Aufstehen!" The leader kicked at Superman's feet.

A second kick was immediately aimed at his head and Superman in reflex covered his face with his arms protectively.

"Nein, nein!" He cried out in his heavily accented German, keeping his voice weak. "Ich gehorche!"

"Hinauf!"

Trying to appear obedient to the impatiently barked commands to get moving, Superman scrambled crookedly to his knees, then used his stick to pry himself to shaky feet, allowing laboured breath to issue from his mouth. At the sight of the weapons trained on him, he froze for a second and then backed away fearfully.

"Warum? Wozu dient das?" He asked what was going on in a purposefully rural accent, keeping his tone bewildered.

"Haende hoche!" he was ordered harshly.

With feigned difficulty, Superman slowly obeyed, raising his hands over his head, and after exchanging an obvious look of distaste with his fellows, one of the men stepped forward and slammed Superman brutally against the crate wall while the others covered him with their meta-weapons. The soldier kicked his legs apart and proceeded to do a swift body search. Superman carefully made no struggle or protest, and waited resignedly until the ignoble search was through. He had little fear that his miniscule communicator – or the medic sensor, wherever it was – would be discovered by the likes of these guys.

They of course quickly found the rusty knife he had tucked away in his outer shirt, and extracted it gingerly. Batman and Kyle had argued over the inclusion of the small weapon in his disguise, but Superman himself had decided in the end to keep it, believing no one would ever reside in one of these lairs and be caught completely weapon-less. If he were detained and searched, he would only be more convincing in his lie with such a possession.

"Messer," the searcher said, holding up the blade in disdain.

The lead sentry nodded expectantly as he took the handle of the old knife and looked it over. "Sonst noch etwas?"

The guard shook his head. "Nichts." _Nothing._

The patrol all looked disappointed at the lack of any other weapons or items of interest. Superman hid a smile of relief. So far, they did not seem to suspect he was anything other than what he appeared: a helpless, harmless old man, an apparent resident of the plant below. He knew better, however, than to relax his guard, and resolved to keep in character as best he could.

"Was ist los?" he asked indignantly after he was spun back around to face the guards. He was instantly slapped across the face as his reward for the query. He was very careful to roll his head with the blow so that the man did not injure his hand.

"Es tut mir leid," Superman apologized quickly. "Was wuenschen Sie?" He was sure to ask what they wanted in a more submissive voice this time, much as it made him bristle inside.

Instead of answering, they raised their laser rifles again, staring at him with suspicious glares. _  
_

_ Uh oh._

The woman then demanded what he had been doing up there. How could he explain what he was doing so far from the actual inhabited areas of the base? His thoughts raced.  
"Ich bin krank," he attempted. "Mir ist schwindlig und uebel." He swayed a little on his feet to prove the sickness and dizziness he had just claimed. "Ich habe Kopfschmerzen." He pressed the heel of his gnarled hand to his head, shaking it as if in pain, and showing physically what he verbally tried to explain in simple German.

The mercenary guards all looked at each other, and one of the men shook his head.

"Verboten!" The woman snarled, shoving him back against the crates. He staggered back as she shouted at him that he was out of bounds, that the place was forbidden.

"Ah, meine Brille ist zerbrochen," Superman answered hastily, mimicking having broken eyeglasses as he spoke, and seeing their surprised looks. "Ich habe mich verirrt." Well, stating that he couldn't see too well and that he was quite lost wasn't actually too far from the truth. He decided to add a plea for help for authenticity's sake. "Koennen Sie mir helfen??"

All three of them let out a great laugh, and the sentry who had performed the body search once more pushed him roughly back against the crates when he tried to step forward.

"Kann ich Ihnen helfen?" The man repeated back in a tone of clear mockery, and then laughed even harder.

"Bitte," Superman pleaded, pretending to cower pitifully.

"Vielleicht," answered the leader with a glint in his eye. _Perhaps_. "Mehr als ein wenig helfen, ja?"

Superman didn't particularly like the sound of the 'help' he was suddenly being offered. He decided that it was prudent to play up his naiveté.

"Entschuligen Sie bitte, ich verstehe nicht," he said in as pathetic a voice as he could manage, forcibly reminding himself of the role had to play, as he both apologized and expressed his lack of understanding with his meek words.

"Ah, aber Sie verstehen," the sentry replied with a nasty grin.

They weren't buying it. Superman swallowed, and the response this time wasn't an act. But he simply looked back at his captors blankly, keeping his course.

The female guard snapped forward and reminded her partners of their duty, and they cocked their weapons again, their mocking laughter dying.

"Bitte, ich bin krank, und ich habe Schmerzen!" Superman tried again desperately, reiterating his 'illness'. If only they would believe him! "Ich habe mich verirrt!" _I'm lost!_

"Ruhig!" They commanded him to be silent, this time with a rifle barrel pressed to his neck.

"Bitte …" he feigned a whimper, trying to keep in character, trying harder to resist the immense temptation of simply snatching the gun away and crumpling it into a ball. _Please…_

They stopped, and looked at each other. Then the women stepped closer, and nudged him in the side with the muzzle of her weapon, looking him over critically._  
_

"Haben Sie einen Ausweis?"

At her demand for identification papers, Superman nodded as if frantically. "Ja, ja!"

The mercenaries exchanged skeptical looks, having already searched him and finding nothing but his knife amongst his rags.

"Wo?"

Superman, with great mustered difficulty, pointed and bent down, tugging at his scuffed and cracked boot, fumbling with the torn and knotted laces. The watching trio predictably grew impatient.

"Papiere, sofort!"

Still bent awkwardly over, Superman pulled the ragged papers free from his boot and slowly held them shakily out to the guards at the demand.

"Beeilen Sie sich!" The nearest guard told him to hurry up and then impatiently stooped to snatch the papers from his hand anyway.

Superman silently straightened, thanking the good fortune of getting such good advice from Black Canary's informant, enabling him to 'prove' he was indeed one of the old plant's maintenance workers with the false identification they acquired, and therefore would seem a bona fide inhabitant among the dregs of what basically amounted to Ayestrom's slave population.

The lead guard looked over his papers, and grunted, frowning at Superman.

"You seem to be out of your defined safe zone, Herr Czerwinski," he said, still in German.

"You really should know better," the woman added, giving him a disdainful look. "You know what happens to non-conformists."

"My apologies, madam," Superman answered meekly, also in German, "but I became quite ill, as I've said, and dizzy, and I couldn't see, and wandered away, becoming most lost. I'm very fortunate you came along when you did! Please, help me find my way back."

She looked at him, obviously irritated, and then at her companions.

"Very well. We'll escort this gutter rat back to the ghetto zone," she said, and the others gave a sharp nod.

"Bring him," she commanded.

The woman turned dismissively away and the male guards each gripped one of Superman's arms and yanked him forward.

"Danke," Superman murmured in forced weakness.

"You won't thank us for long," one of his 'helpers' snorted in a Swedish-accented German. He gave Superman a dark, sidelong look. "You will, no doubt, be severely punished for being out of bounds without permission. Your overmaster will see to that!"

"I just hope I'll be there to watch," grunted the other with a rather disquieting leer. "That would really make my night."

Superman suppressed an involuntary shiver. Little more was said as the patrol 'escorted' him farther into the basement, and then down a stairwell into an even deeper and more cavernous level.

Superman's mind raced furiously even as he stumbled obligingly along in the grip of his guards. This turn of events hadn't been entirely unexpected, but the League had naturally hoped for an avoidance of such an encounter. He had no opportunity to contact Oracle, or to escape the base undetected. At least they had not discovered his miniature comm tucked away against his collarbone, and thus far his disguise and acting performance seemed to be convincing.

And, he couldn't help thinking, there was the remote possibility that this could turn out to be an advantageous event. He was, after all, moving closer to the hostages' supposed position, not further away, and he couldn't help but glean more information about the base, the number of soldiers stationed here, the kind of equipment they employed, and perhaps, most of all, even more about Ayestrom himself.

He shivered again suddenly as he thought about Ayestrom.

His vision swam abruptly, and then filled with disquieting images from his recent slew of dark dreams as the visions swarmed across his mind's eye full force, out of the blue.

_ Nein! No! Not now!_

He gritted his teeth and with an effort, pushed the nightmares back.

He couldn't deal with them right now. And there was no use at all in dwelling on them here and now.

He wrested his attention back to his immediate surroundings, and tried to keep alert.

_ You're on a fact-finding mission here, Superman,_ he forcibly reminded himself. _The League needs more info. Keep focussed._

They still knew practically nothing about their mysterious enemy, barely anything more than what they had learned when he'd first declared war on the United Nations and on the League. But they did know the man was extraordinarily powerful (though not in precisely what way) and ruthless, charismatic, and quite possibly the most evil man – or creature – that the JLA had faced in a very long time.

Against his will, Superman's memory flashed again to the video footage showing the innocent school children that Ayestrom's men had so callously murdered, having done so simply to catch the League's attention. He clenched his jaw almost painfully. He couldn't – _wouldn't_ – allow such a thing to happen again.

_Never again_.

He stumbled, but this time it was not a faked fall, as his distracted thoughts and own very real fatigue caused him to misjudge his dragging steps on the uneven floor and falter. He immediately compensated with still-lightning reflexes, allowing the guards to catch his arms and halt his fall, dragging him forwards again with irritated glares. But by exerting precision control over his flight capability, he made his body seem lighter and frailer to the guards than of course it actually was as they caught him.

"Ich habe es eilig," the female guard snapped as they yanked him up.

_ Why is she in a hurry? _ He wondered at her words even as he apologized again and expressed his fatigue. "Mir tut Bein weh," he added, saying his leg hurt.

His escorts shrugged, not especially caring about his supposed infirmities, and proceeded to drag him along once again.

Superman determined to concentrate more on his surroundings after that slight lapse. He forcibly reminded himself that he was basically alone and surrounded on all sides by a powerful enemy with a virtual army bearing immensely potent weaponry. Weaponry that could hurt even _him._ It would not do to get careless at this stage of the game. Not after coming so far, at such great cost. But the cost would prove far greater if he failed in his mission now.

_ Bruce, I'm not going to let them down._

--

To Be Continued (Immediately!)


	11. In the Teeth of It Part 2

**A/N:** Oh! I forgot to mention in my last update note! This story, "JLA: Necessary Force", recently won a fanfic award! (at the 2008 WFAs - World's Finest Awards on Livejournal.) It won in the category of **BEST GEN** story! beams I was terribly surprised, and very honoured and humbled to be both nominated in the first place, (particularly since this is still a Work In Progress) and then absolutely floored to actually win the award! Sure, it's only a little fanfic award, but still! It is a lovely, lovely thing to be so recognized, no matter how small, especially since I've worked awfully hard on this particular story, and for so many years. Just had to share that with you wonderful folks over here at ! I hope you find it worthy of such an honour!

- Pax :-)

--

**Title**: JLA: Necessary Force - Part 8: "In the Teeth of It" (2nd Half)  
**Author:** Paxwolf  
**Fandom:** _JLA/Justice League  
_**Rating: ** PG-13 (R in parts)  
**Disclaimer:** Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, and the JLA are all owned by DC Comics/Time Warner. No money being made here, folks! Original Characters owned by me, though, I suppose. :-)  
**Thanks and Credits: ** Please see Part 1 or Previous Part for all Beta and other help and acknowledgements!  
**Special Thanks to**: the real' Gunter Czerwinski, and the lovely Marianne Czerwinski, for all their help with my German in this chapter. Danke!  
**Warnings**: Mature Situations, Language, Violence - (oh, and more **Foreign Language Alert!**)  
**Summary:** When a powerful terrorist threatens the safety of the planet, the Justice League must go to extremes to stop him, and Superman and Batman may have to make the biggest sacrifice of all.  
**Summary of _This_ Part:** Our heroes start to realize the mammoth scale of Lord Ayestrom's designs, and Superman is less than impressed with his host's hospitality.

**JLA**

**"Necessary Force"**

**by Paxwolf**

**Part VIII**

**(2nd half):**

**"In the Teeth of It"**

The four of them entered an ancient-looking freight elevator, Superman's captors none too gentle in their manhandling. The female commander nodded and the two sentries pushed Superman against one wall, and forced his head against the cold metal, shielding the control panel from his view. As the old lift began its descent, they pulled him around to stand in the centre. He was careful not to resist, and not to say anything they could possibly construe as being out of the norm for someone of his status. He only hoped they continued to buy his act.

They passed the next floor, and descended still further, dropping down into the base proper, until the lift finally came to a jarring halt on a level that had to be far below the ground. The cage was shoved up, and the party emerged into a huge, cavernous space that had been clearly hewn straight out of solid rock, and wasn't cemented like the basement levels above had been. Superman raised his eyebrows silently in surprise.

The place was bigger than several aircraft hangers combined. He hadn't been able to see down this far at all, even with _his_ vision.

"Get moving, Verstinki!"

The mercenaries guffawed at their insult, and Superman was pushed unceremoniously out of the lift at his pause, and then roughly hauled along a worn stone pathway. He made no protest at his rough treatment, and mostly tried to keep his head down while surreptitiously observing as much as he could.

He saw right away that it would have been exceedingly difficult to steal undetected into this hidden level, which he'd noted hadn't even been indicated on the control panel of the freight elevator. The woman had activated some sort of belt control to direct the thing. Guards were everywhere, posted at every entrance, every elevator and ladderway, alertly patrolling the area, armed to the teeth, and brooking no disputes.

"I sincerely hope your overseer gives you a damned good flogging, gutter rat," one of his guards said again, the leer once more in place. "It's been a good while since we've been so entertained."

With an effort, Superman held his tongue, swallowing the first words that leapt to his lips, and continued to shuffle along, trying his best to appear feeble and ill. He made sure he looked as if he had absolutely no interest in his surroundings, or his fate, while at the same time, taking as much in as he could.

They passed a great many more of the underground inhabitants than he had yet seen, but unlike the ones he'd watched in the upper levels, these were much more raggedly dressed, and uniformly possessed a despairing kind of dead look in their eyes as they trudged along the passageways. They were mostly burdened with bales of goods or buckets of water, or were performing various types of manual labour.

_So, not all of Ayestrom's 'subjects' universally adore him_, Superman thought, both disturbed and oddly saddened by this newest revelation.

Very few of the residents they passed bothered to look up at the guards or their detainee, and none at all met their eyes, merely stepping out of the way or being roughly shoved over by his guards if they moved too slowly.

The heavily armed sentries and mercenaries they passed generally gave a curt nod or a truncated sort of salute to the woman who led Superman's party through the warren of paths amid thin fabricated walls which created makeshift workrooms and living quarters for the many denizens he observed there.

Several small children, clothed in little more than rags, and appearing alarmingly malnourished, were also present. They were not playing, but working alongside the adults. Not one of them smiled.

Superman frowned.

The air here was dank and musty, smelling strongly of mildew, garbage, sweat, and human waste, repugnant to Superman's sensitive nose. His own manufactured odour was certainly not out of place in these surroundings. It was also unnaturally warm for such a deep hole in the ground. Perhaps, he speculated, the heat was a byproduct of weapons manufacture, or some kind of illicit engineering? He tried and failed to scan for man-made heat sources.

He was led still deeper into the maze, and the crowds of residents seemed to be increasing in number; simultaneously, the living space was becoming more cramped, dark, and filthy. He thought of the extravagance and finery of the upper estate, squalidly shielding this underground city from view. The conditions these people were enduring were doubly deplorable by comparison.

The despair in the air was nearly tangible, choking in its desperation. He distracted himself from dwelling on the abject misery before him by exerting a maximum strain on his senses, filing away everything about the base that he could. He grinned a little, tightly. If nothing else, he was certainly learning a great deal about the base in this forced march.

He jerked his head up, startled, as his guards abruptly yanked him to an unceremonious halt.

"Welcome back to the ghetto zone, Herr Czerwinski," one of the guards snickered. "Lost and sickly or not, you are most certain to receive a very warm welcome indeed."

His escorts shared a nasty little laugh, and wrestled the unresisting but uncooperative Superman into a smaller cave gouged straight out of the rock wall. It apparently served as an impromptu office and detention area. A single bare light bulb overhead, hanging at an angle from bare wiring strung across the ceiling, provided a dim, uneven light. A rusty metal desk in the corner stood vacant.

"It would seem as though this zone's overseer is away on business," the woman said, turning to assess Superman. "You will be required to remain here until his return."

Superman began to nod as his guards released his arms and stepped away, swaying unsteadily on his feet. It wasn't entirely an act. He timidly gestured towards a single, rickety wooden chair placed in the middle of the small chamber. " "Darf ich mich hinsetzen?" _May I sit, please?_

"So polite! Such formal German!" the nearest guard laughed. He bowed obsequiously. "But of course, mein 'Frau'." He snickered at the insult. "If you can find a seat, that is."

Superman carefully kept his expression blank as he limped painfully to the chair, dragging his foot.

"Such courtesy deserves it in kind," the second guard said slyly. "Allow me to assist you, Herr Czerwinski."

And without any warning, he planted a hard boot in the small of Superman's back and kicked forward forcefully, sending his prisoner sprawling to the ground. Superman was forced to allow himself be knocked into the wooden chair, shattering it in the process as he fell upon it with all his weight. He groaned and clutched at his shoulder and elbow, aware of how bruised he would be after such a fall had he really been the haggard, frail man he was pretending. He kept his face partially averted, worried that the makeup on the left side of his face was compromised as his cheek was scraped across the rough stone floor.

"Oh, how very clumsy of me!" cried the guard with obvious glee. "I was a little overzealous in my help. I do hope you're all right."

Superman was forced to expend an even greater effort to biting down on his temper. It was obvious that brutalization of the powerless denizens by Ayestrom's elite troops was routine here.

"Genug!" the female sentry snapped, and indicated the exit.

Superman wisely swallowed his mounting anger and meekly crawled to the opposite wall, sitting up against it painfully, and drawing his knees up to his chest.

"Warten Sie hier," one of the male guards ordered him. _  
_

_Wait here? _

For how long? It seemed to Superman that he and the woman took turns giving the commands. It was slightly confusing. "Try to depart without permission and my corporal here will open fire. Understood?"

"Understood," Superman said stiffly.

"Your overmaster will be back shortly to administer treatment for you … and naturally, the punishment you've merited."

He laughed at that, and then he and the woman turned and departed without a further glance at him, leaving the burly guard standing outside the entrance to the detention cave. Superman sighed slightly, and activated his X-ray vision to watch the woman pull out a communication device, presumably to report on their findings to her own C.O.

_Great,_ he thought tiredly, absently rubbing at his knocked elbow without consciously realizing that it was sore. _What a pretty little pickle you've gotten yourself into this time, Clark!_

As soon as this overseer returned to his office, he would surely recognize Superman as a stranger, of not belonging to his zone. And then, this game would be up quicker than one could say, well, '_Essiggurken_'!

He had to repress a sudden surge of hysterical laughter, borne, no doubt, out of his sheer exhaustion. He suddenly remembered he never had received that hour of concentrated sunlight that he'd promised J'onn he would, although he now knew he had fooled no one when he'd claimed that that was all he'd needed to regain his vim and vigour. He shook his head with a slightly bitter smile. If only.

_What options do I have now?_ he asked himself grimly. _Think, idiot! You're Superman. Find a way! There'll be no giving up at this juncture of time. Your cover's about to be blown sky high, you're unable to escape without undue notice, and it might not even be possible to fight your way back up top. And certainly huddling here in misery and indecision is not helping any of those hostages!_

He wearily climbed to his feet, fighting the overpowering desire to just curl up and go to sleep, and studied first the desk, and then behind the walls for anything that looked like it could be used as a weapon or be of use. Nada. Just more of the same dismal, stuffy, dirty, rat-infested chambers and valueless trash these poor people were forced to survive on.

How had this happened to them? he wondered anew. Were they so desperate in their previous lives that they would willingly choose to leave their freedom to beg for Ayestrom's 'protection', and therefore enslave themselves to his power-hungry cause?

He was by now well convinced that Ayestrom was an incredibly persuasive and commanding leader. But equally apparent was that not everyone in his sphere of influence were benefiting from his illegal exploits or his tremendous power and wealth.

He shot a quick look at the doorway, but his guard was still at his post, with an additional patrol of six soldiers lounging nearly directly across the narrow corridor from his jail cave. The ghetto overseer would no doubt be there at any moment.

He sighed, and knowing the risks, also recognized that at this point he had very little left to lose. He leaned against the wall, and drawing breath, activated his comm.

"Oracle. Batman. Come in."

Almost immediately his communicator crackled to life.

"Superman! What's your status?" The voice on the other end sounded almost frantic. He closed his eyes. Damn it but he hadn't wanted this to play out this way!

"Not good, I'm afraid, Oracle," he said quietly. "My freedom's been curtailed, and my disguise will very shortly be of little use." Then he grinned, squaring his shoulders. "But it could be worse."

"Just how could it be worse?" Oracle sounded aghast.

He tried to sound more optimistic than he was feeling. "Well, for one thing, Batman's not here to personally berate me for landing in this mess. You just know how that would brighten my night."

"Thank God for small favours," was the dry reply.

He grinned. "Plus, I've found a few things. Useful things. And they don't yet know who I am, so it's ..."

"Yet??"

"Ah, slip of the tongue. Sorry."

"And the hostages?" broke in Batman. Superman could almost hear the rigidity that must have been tightening Batman's neck and jaw.

Bruce ...

"I'm closer to their position, I believe," he answered calmly. "And Batman, they are definitely at this base." He couldn't help the smile that he could feel blossoming across his face. It had been the biggest coup of information he'd gathered so far. They werehere. The children were_ here_. "I overheard some of the soldiers here discussing them," he added before any demands could be made. "However, their condition is still unknown," he reported, forcing the worry from his voice. "I _can_ tell you that this base is far larger than we originally guessed, with over two thousand non-combatants residing underground." He shook his head, thinking again of the faces he had passed on his way through. The despair, the emptiness, the desperation that he'd seen ... He forced his mind back on track. "I've managed to estimate that there are at least four hundred mercs or soldiers stationed here alone." He heard the indrawn breaths at the news. "And I'm afraid that it appears that most of them have been outfitted with those meta-weapons that've been giving us a bit of trouble in the past few attacks." He rubbed his face. "That's not entirely great news, I know. And worse …"

"It gets worse?" Oracle sounded disbelieving. Superman sighed.

"Unfortunately. Somehow our communications have been detected." He paused. "They've discovered a way to trace our transmissions."

Even Superman lifted an eyebrow at Batman's verbal response to that news.

"Is this safe even talking to you then?" he heard Kyle ask worriedly in the background. "Right now?"

He didn't know how to answer that, so he said nothing. He twisted his fingers unconsciously in his lap. "I don't think they're that precise," he said finally. "And more importantly, I think I can find out a good deal more about what's going on down at this level. There's something strange going on, and we need to know what it is. I'll keep on the lookout."

"And how are you holding up, Kal?" Diana interjected softly. "Your voice … it does not sound like you."

"I'm fine, for the time being," he said, trying to make to his hoarse and strained voice sound firmer. "Don't worry. I'm not out of tricks yet."

"Odds for escape?" Batman demanded.

"For the hostages?" Superman let out a breath and swiftly calculated the chances in his head. "At present, with what I've got to go on, I'd say approximately one thousand and forty to…"

"No," Batman nearly snarled, obviously struggling for some control himself, "for _you_."

"Not impossible, certainly," he replied, purposefully vague. "I'll do my level best. Like I said, don't worry."

"Oh yeah," Oracle said, the levity of her tone failing to mask the concern beneath. "Around here, that's like telling a momma grizzly that she needn't worry about defending her helpless cubs from vicious encroaching predators."

"But luckily in our case, I'm no helpless cub." Superman smiled and added gently, "I'll be all right."

Batman made an unidentifiable noise in his throat. "We cannot afford to lose you, Superman. Our fighting strength will be diminished if you…"

"He is not just a League asset or some sort of tactical advantage to be used at your whim, Batman!" Wonder Woman retorted, unusual anger clear in her voice. "He is one of our own, and I will not have you …"

"I am all too aware of that," came Batman's frosty reply. "And _you _should well remember that I …"

"Look," Superman intervened, nipping the escalating argument in the bud. "Ayestrom's people are likely already locked onto our signal. I have to cut communications before there's time for them to pinpoint it to me specifically." He sighed. "I've got a plan, so do stop freaking out." He smiled tightly at the response that comment got him. "I'm starting to think Oracle was right in her assessment of you!"

"I'm always right," Oracle said primly.

"Kal, what if …" J'onn started.

"It's all right, J'onn," Superman interrupted. He paused a moment. "We all knew the risks in this when we began," he said, more softly. "And we just have to … play the hand that we've been dealt."

"Superman …" Batman began.

"I'll contact you as soon as I possibly can," he added quickly.

"Kal!"

"Superman out."

He deactivated the channel with abrupt speed, and then slumped against the roughhewn wall.

Batman knew. His team knew. Knew, at least, about the situation, as helpless as they were to yet do anything about it. But they had all been in worse spots and still managed to come out triumphant in the end. He would simply have to trust that their luck would hold true one more time.

He drew in a deep breath, shut his eyes for a single luxuriant second, and then forced himself to straighten.

Now, to see about that plan …

--

**To be Continued ...**

--

Note: There's a tiny pun in there, in Superman's head. "Essiggurken" is the German word for a type of 'pickle', as in, 'He's in a pretty one.' g ;-)


	12. Enfant Perdu Part 1

**Title: ** _JLA: _Necessary Force - Part 9: "Enfant Perdu" (1st Half)  
**Author:** Paxwolf  
**Fandom:** _JLA/Justice League  
_**Rating: ** PG-13 (R in parts) **  
Warnings**: Mature Situations, Language, Violence  
**Disclaimer:** JLA sadly not owned by me. OCs are.  
**Summary:** When a powerful terrorist threatens the safety of the planet, the Justice League must go to extremes to stop him, and Superman and Batman may have to make the biggest sacrifice of all.  
**Summary of This Part:** Batman leads the League in formulating the ultimate of plans in the first stage of the effort to bring down the deadly terrorist and his army, and hopefully rescue the children - and a certain hapless Man of Steel - in the process.

--

**JLA**

**"Necessary Force"  
**

**By Paxwolf**

**Note**: Please see all warning, disclaimers, and acknowledgements in Part I of "Necessary Force". Thank you!

**Part IX:**

(1st half)

**"Enfant Perdu"**

**N**early all of the children had finally fallen asleep, huddled in tight groups under the blankets their captors had flung into their enclosure.

Lauren Findlay scrunched her eyes shut in a vain attempt to ease the gritty soreness they'd been plagued with for hours. She opened them again in time to see the glance of pained sympathy from Mei. They shared a silent look of commiseration from across the enforced distance of several feet that separated them. She could see how Mei's shoulders shook minutely under the blanket thrown across them, and tried to send out a feeling of comfort and hope through her gaze.

Laurie stretched her locked-up muscles as she rose wearily, and stepped around to check on the sleeping children. The three teachers had taken it in turns to patrol through the huddled bodies, more to reassure the kids of their familiar presence than because they could do any real good for those under their care. She saw that some of the children only dozed fitfully, tossing and fidgeting, too wound up with fear to truly rest, while others slumbered on in a near coma-like sleep, perhaps in a subconscious effort to escape from their terrifying situation. She bent down at little Janey's side, tenderly tucking a corner of the rough blanket around her small shoulder. Standing for a moment gazing down at the child's sleeping, tear-stained face, Laurie was all at once overwhelmed by her wildly fluctuating emotions. She didn't think she had ever experienced such a degree of fear, grief, rage, and helplessness in her life.

What was going to happen to these innocent little lives? What would their mysterious captors do to them if they didn't get whatever they it was they wanted - from whomever they wanted it? And most terribly of all, what could she, or any of the prisoners, do about it? She was once again faced with the realization that she, her colleagues, their students, and the foreign-looking prisoners in the opposite cage were entirely at the mercy of these violent, gun-toting fanatics and this Ubermensch character they called lord. It was so far from the realm of her experience, of her safe, normal little world, that she wanted to scream and force herself wake up from the sheer unreality of it.

She brushed a lock of hair from Janey's cheek and straightened abruptly as another sentry stalked arrogantly by their fence, weapon angled cockily over one shoulder. He caught her sudden glare and immediately halted, lounging indolently against the bolted gate. She quickly averted her gaze, heart rate speeding up slightly, hoping against hope to avoid more trouble.

"Qu'est-ce que tu regardes, femme?" he snapped out with a sneer.

Laurie said nothing, and only scowled at the ground. She thought maybe the guard had spoken in French, but couldn't be altogether sure with his peculiar and strong accent from some other language. Either way, she determined to not look back up at him and meet his assessing gaze. Prudently, she just could not risk further trauma to her pupils, of course. But oh, how she longed to wipe that smug grin off the man's face with a sharp left across the eyes! She held herself still, fists clenched at her sides, staring fiercely at the ground.

The guard paused, then suddenly slunk forward, fishing out keys from his pocket, and unlocked the gate of their pen. In horror she looked up at the sound, heart hammering in her chest. From the corner of her eye she spotted Mei and Linc stand up uneasily. The sentry advanced slowly, but Laurie, seeing anew the sleeping bodies of the children all around her, stood her ground, despite the terror for them, and yes, for herself, that ran in lightning pulses up and down her spine. The man, leering horribly, reached out a gloved hand.

"Alors, veux-tu jouer, ma chere?"

Laurie stiffened as his hand grabbed her chin, breath coming so fast she thought she might hyperventilate.

"Enough!"

The guard stiffened and twisted around at the shouted command. Standing a few metres away from the gate was a woman, also attired in fatigues like their guard, staring narrowly at them both.

"Back off, soldier," she barked, in English, her own hand on the butt of the weapon at her belt.

The sentry's face contorted into a grimace, but without argument, he straightened and left the enclosure, violetnly slamming and locking the gate behind him. Laurie closed her eyes and breathed a prayer of relief. All of a sudden she felt her knees wobble and she sank onto the ground gracelessly, the adrenaline rush leaving her weak. Lincoln ignored the five-metre distance rule and hurried to kneel beside her.

"Are you all right?"

She looked up at him, his dark eyes wide with concern, dark skin shining with perspiration as he hovered over her. His frizzled white hair seemed to stand on end like a bizarre halo. She wondered how such a frail-looking older man with all the qualities of a gentleman could stay so strong.

"Y-yes, I'm fine," she said a little breathlessly, pinching the bridge of her nose as it began to bleed profusely. "Just a little, uh, stressed, obviously."

Linc fished out a tissue and laid a reassuring hand on her arm.

"Hang tough, Miss Findlay. Before you know it, we'll all be home. We're going to make it out of here just fine. All of us. I just know we will."

She mopped up the blood before it could run down and soil her jacket. "That would take some miracle, Linc," she said dispiritedly. "No one knows where we are. _We _don't know where we are!"

"Ah, but I happen to believe in miracles," he answered firmly, giving her shoulder a light squeeze. "I have to. I'm a teacher."

She smiled back at him, her heart warmed, and held the Kleenex against her nose. "Really."

"Sure thing."

"Okay, then." She drew a deep breath, oddly heartened. "I'll try to believe the same. It's the least I can do." She met his eyes, and tried to smile. She succeeded, even if it was a weak approximation of a real one. "After all, I'm a teacher too."

"That's the spirit. We will get out of this interesting predicament of ours soon enough. Have faith, my girl."

The female soldier, having finished with her verbal dressing down of her subordinate, snapped her attention back to the captives.

"You! Ne parle pas! Enough talking! Separate yourselves ... _now_!"

Linc helped Laurie to her feet with gentle hands, and gave her a wink. She nodded wordless thanks as he reluctantly moved away.

Satisfied at their compliance, and seeing that Laurie's bleeding had slowed, the female captain turned away to resume her watch.

Laurie's lip curled as she watched the captain. How could the woman be helping keep them in this prison? How could she possibly be a party to this gross subjugation? She could have sworn she'd seen a glimmer of pity in the captain's eyes when she had been watching the children crying in terror upon their initial arrival. She sighed in frustration. Who was this Ayestrom that he had such a hold over both despicable and decent people? And more importantly, just what could such a monster possibly want with the likes of _them_?

She couldn't figure it.

She settled back down beside Janey and Kerry and nodded reassuringly at Linc and Mei. She could swear the bit of grey in Mei's shiny black hair had spread during the last two days alone.

If only the faintest of glimmers of hope could come their way, she would be able to hold on. She knew she could. If only someone knew where they were. Then it would be that much easier to keep hoping, and keep on fighting.

Batman slammed his hand down on the small table beside him, causing the contents to go flying as the surface dented alarmingly inwards. He glowered at the table, and at the communicator that lay haplessly upon it, breathing heavily.

"Batman?" J'onn asked, somewhat tentatively.

"_Damn_ him," Batman grated, not looking up.

"He knew the risks. We all did," Aquaman interposed, fingering his metal hand contemplatively.

Batman shot him a dark look. "Then damn _us_ as well."

"For what?" Kyle asked cluelessly.

"For letting ourselves get into this intolerable predicament in the first place! We have allowed ourselves to be outmaneuvered by Ayestrom at nearly every turn." His gauntleted hands tightened into unyielding fists against the dented surface of the table. "Enough is enough."

Kyle swallowed. _ I don't know if I've ever seen Bats this angry before. Like, ever._

"You are correct, Batman," Diana was saying, blue eyes sparkling with Amazonian fire. "Therefore, I propose that it is high time to mount an offensive."

"You can't be serious!" Flash exclaimed in shock. "Say I'm stating the obvious here, but should we attack, those hostages can kiss their collective cabooses good-bye."

"And these terrorists will commit the exact same atrocity if we stand by and do nothing," she snapped back. "A monster like Ayestrom has proven he cares nothing for ordinary mortal lives. He is just using those poor people in order to toy with us."

"Maybe true, but is a direct assault on his power base the answer right now?"

"Why not?" Aquaman answered, a slow smile curling into his beard. "Thanks to Oracle and Superman, we have determined that the Amsterdam location is, in fact, the main base. We know about the other two. Superman's confirmed the presence of the hostages in the Amsterdam HQ. We now even know their numbers; we know their weapons. It certainly attests to the fact that our infiltration plan was a success."

_But ... but we might have lost Supes in the attempt,_ Kyle thought, staring down at his Ring. _Oh god ..._

"Except for the tiny little detail of not getting our infiltrator _back_," Wally said, echoing Kyle's thoughts, narrowing his eyes at Arthur.

"Not yet. But that will be corrected," said Diana determinedly. "We shall get everyone properly prepared for battle. Then we assault this 'Lord' Ayestrom's main lair and show him just with whom he has chosen to deal . We rescue the hostages and Kal, and take down Ayestrom and his army once and for all."

There was a collective intake of breath, and a hush in the room. Then a few heads began to nod.

"I am ready _now_," Aquaman said, standing.

"Saddle up, lock and load," Kyle added with a tight grin, a surge of energy coursing through him at the idea, a gargantuan green bazooka spilling into life from the Ring.

Flash cast a quick look at J'onn, who seemed to be staring off into the distance, then shrugged resignedly. "All right, then, Wondy. Guess we suit up."

"No."

Everyone's heads turned to stare at Batman.

"No?" Aquaman echoed, beginning to glower.

Kyle blinked. _No?_

"That's right," Batman said with quiet intensity. "At this point, it would be the gravest of mistakes on our part to attack."

"How can you just stand there and say that?" Wonder Woman demanded, straightening abruptly. "Nothing else we have attempted thus far has seemed to accomplish a thing!"

"Nor will this."

"Ayestrom must be stopped, Batman. We all know it. He must be brought to justice, through any means possible."

"Not through _this_ means!"

"But why?" asked Kyle, a little startled that he had dared to speak up with Batman looking like _that_.

"It would be both suicidal and homicidal, Green Lantern," Batman growled. "I would have thought that that would have been obvious, even to you."

Kyle flushed.

"I say we attack," Diana reiterated, eyes trained on Batman challengingly.

"I say we don't."

For several long heavy moments, Wonder Woman and Batman stared levelly at each other. Everyone else watched them.

"And what about Kal?" Diana asked finally, her soft tone not detracting from the steel beneath. "I know the two of you have your differences, but I thought he was your friend, if anyone was. Will you simply abandon him there, at the mercy of Ayestrom? Especially if that's exactly what that demon wants?"

Batman bristled. "This is neither the time nor the place to discuss my relationship with anyone. As for Superman, we shall simply have to trust in his ability to endure."

"While we do _what_?" Flash asked before a furious Diana could respond.

"While we come up with an alternative."

Aquaman threw himself with a huff back into his chair.

"If we launch an attack now," Diana said, obviously struggling for her usual calm, "with the UN negotiations pending, when he least expects it…"

"Don't you see, Princess," Batman riposted, "that this would be precisely what Ayestrom _does_ expect! He wants us to face him head on, with the world watching, on _his_ ground. We would end up playing right into his hands."

"Not if we overpower him first," Aquaman said sharply.

Batman turned to look at him levelly. "And you can guarantee that, can you?"

"With ourselves, our League Reserves, the UN security forces, the JSA and other Meta groups, surely we have the sheer firepow…"

"I had always assumed that someone who was the ruling monarch of three quarters of the planet would have a better grasp of tactics than that."

Aquaman stiffened and rose slightly from his chair.

"If you were anyone else, Batman…"

"Please, my friends," J'onn interposed gently, rising slowly from his seat. "If Kal-El were here, I am certain he would, rather tenaciously, observe that such dissension in our ranks only serves the interests of the enemy, not our own."

"Yeah, and if Superman were here, we wouldn't be in this dilemma in the first place, would we?" Flash ventured with forced cheerfulness.

Kyle tried not to smile.

Wonder Woman frowned, and held herself stiffly for a moment before sitting down with a sigh. "Very well, Batman," she said with great restraint. "If you do not wish to rescue our teammate and the hostages, what do you propose instead?"

Batman set his teeth and displayed equal restraint.

"It's _not_ that I don't want to effect a rescue. It's that our strategy must not be one that our enemy either anticipates, or worse, actually welcomes." He looked at the others. "My voice alone does not carry the weight necessary to command you in this. But I ask you all to set aside your anger, and your fear for the hostages, even if Superman himself is shortly to become one of them. We must think beyond what Ayestrom is capable. And then act accordingly."

The League gazed back at him, various states of emotion and reaction easily read on each visage, whether masked or not.

Kyle looked surreptitiously at the faces around him. _ But ..._

"I agree with Batman," J'onn finally said. "If we charge in now, while Ayestrom is at his greatest strength, then all the work and sacrifice we and our friends have put into this endeavor thus far will have been for naught. Including Superman's own."

Arthur and Wally both nodded and Kyle, after a moment, added his own nod, watching Wonder Woman.

Diana closed her eyes and then also inclined her head reluctantly.

"Very well. I will, of course, adhere to the majority. But only because I believe Kal would agree with you in this."

Batman rose, accepting their decision, but clearly taking no pleasure in his victory.

"Flash, I want you to gather everyone. Even our spies at the other bases. Atom, Steel, Huntress, Canary … everyone. Including our guest. Quickly."

"Hey, quick's my middle name."

And Flash had vanished. Batman thumbed his communicator.

"Oracle, I want you to talk to our UN contact. Tell her … tell her we've found all three of Ayestrom's lairs."

"Gotcha, boss."

"What?!" Diana exclaimed, eyes wide.

"That's insanity," Aquaman thundered, looking daggers at Batman.

"Er, correct me if I'm wrong," Kyle muttered, "but isn't that our one big advantage right now? I mean, that Ayestrom doesn't know _we_ now know where he is?"

Plastic Man looked up breathlessly from where he had appeared in the tent via Flash. "Yeah, won't whatever spies Big Bad's got at the UN filter the word through?"

"Precisely," Batman almost smirked. "But we want him to know that we know that he knows that we know where he is."

Kyle caught himself staring. _What?_

"Wanna run that by us one more time?" Flash said as he appeared for a split second with a disheveled Black Canary.

"No, no, it makes perfect sense!" Plas said, his head twirling around in an opposite whirl from both of his eyes. "I just can't believe the Bat was the one who said that."

Before any more questions or demands could arise, Flash reappeared once more, this time holding a dazed young French mercenary by the shoulders before disappearing again.

"Ah, Monsieur Bondue," Batman greeted grimly, "I believe you were hoping for the opportunity to meet some of my Justice League colleagues?"

Startled, the young man looked up, his breath caught. The expression on his face was almost comical as he stared at the assembled group, mouth agape.

"Uh, um, comment allez-vous?" he stammered, and then bowed quickly. "Enchanté, Messieurs et Mademoiselles. I am most honoured to be here." His voice was trembling underneath his politeness.

When no one answered but only continued to grant him measuring stares, he looked down again quickly, and Batman, a small smile playing about his mouth, gestured to a camp chair at the table. "Assie-toi, Etienne."

Etienne sat gingerly down, feeling the weight of all the stares, acutely sensing the power gathered there in that room. Batman turned to the others.

"Our knowledge of the bases' locations is not, unfortunately, nearly as much of an advantage as we'd assumed. According to our young friend here, Ayestrom has actually been counting on our finding his bases and coming in person right to him."

"How can that be?" Diana questioned, startled, throwing a look at the young Frenchman.

"And why would he possibly want such a thing?" Arthur added, a frown darkening his brow. "We'd be in a position to alert the UN, rescue the hostages, and stymie his threat to the world."

_Yeah, pretty much_, Kyle thought.

"Except that the hostages are not there as a hold over the UN," Batman countered. "All along they have been used as bait … for _us_."

_Huh?_

"And you believe this … this _boy_?" Aquaman asked, glancing with disdain at Etienne. "How do you know he's not feeding you lies that Ayestrom would prefer us to swallow? Just last night he was part and parcel of the monster's terrorist army, and now he proclaims to _help_ us? Just how naïve are you?"

Batman did not waste breath arguing, but simply looked over at the Martian Manhunter, who was also staring intently at Etienne. Etienne shrank back under the steady scarlet gaze.

"J'onn?"

"He himself believes what he has overheard within his regiment is the truth," J'onn confirmed quietly.

Etienne's eyes widened, and he swallowed, hard.

"That doesn't mean…"

"Oui! C'est vrai!" Etienne piped up suddenly, and though his face reddened as everyone turned to look at him, he drew breath and plunged on. "I tell you the truth. And I would not betray you. At first, Monsieur Batman did not give me any choice in the matter; but now, I would help you of my own accord. I do not wish to be a party to the murders of innocent children. I did not know about the abductions … before. I was not even stationed at the main base in Amsterdam! Only the best, the most loyal, most experienced members of our force were given that privilege, an honour only earned through service in battle against your forces."

"Heh. Some informant," Aquaman dismissed him perfunctorily. "It's doubtful that one of such low rank would be privy to anything of real value."

Etienne reddened further.

"Hey, man," Kyle broke in, feeling for the kid, "Cut the kid some slack, why doncha? He's on our side now, right? That sure can't have been easy. From what I hear, this Ayestrom dude's got some hold on most of his people. Right?" he added, a little uncertainly, flashing a look at J'onn.

Etienne cast Kyle a grateful look. "Merci, Monsieur Lumiere-Vert. It is true. Most of my compatriots are fanatically loyal to our Übermensch. I … I thought I was too, but I had not been there for very long. Perhaps …"

_Über-what?_

"Perhaps that has something to do with the broken ties," Diana said, forehead creased in thought.

"Do you think Ayestrom's famed charisma could be some sort of a … a superpower of his or something?" Kyle asked excitedly. "It sure would explain a lot."

"That is entirely possible, Green Lantern," J'onn said thoughtfully. "And certainly the idea bears looking into."

"We're getting off-topic here," Aquaman snapped. "How can anything this pup tells us be of use? He's obviously much too young to be have been told anything of strategic interest."

Etienne's hackles went up. "I want to help you, Monsieurs. I truly do. But you do not make it easy. And even one such as I can know many things. I was considered part of our group. And so was trusted. Trusted because I too believed in Lord Ayestrom. Only Monsieur Batman's … influence has persuaded me from this belief. And it gets easier the longer I am here."

Batman merely looked at Aquaman, head slightly cocked to one side. At Arthur's eloquent but silent look of grudging respect, he nodded at Etienne to continue.

The boy drew a breath.

"As I said earlier, mes amis, it is widely known amongst us that our lord – er, Ayestrom," he corrected himself hastily at their looks. "- was in reality, en actualement, hoping to be discovered by you or your friends." Several Leaguers frowned. "He desires to force a physical confrontation between you and he. He wants to match wits and strength against the best you have to offer." He looked at them all, everyone's attention upon himself. He gulped, but pressed on. "This is to prove his superiority to Europe, and to the entire world. He will rule, he will have power, and to his mind, his defeat of the Justice League of America grants him the very right to that power."

The various members of the League looked at each other as the words sank in. Throughout the conversation, reserve members and JLA allies were filtering by ones and twos into the room, brought in under their own power, or by the Flash. They stood quietly inside the large tent's entrance, listening. But at this point, it was Green Arrow who finally spoke up.

"Hold on here, and pardon me if I'm interrupting, gents, but this is somethin' that's been botherin' me for a bit. If this Ayestrom jerk is so bloody powerful, how come we've never heard of him before this crisis?"

"That's right," Canary said, a perplexed look on her face, glancing at Arrow. "Before this crisis, did anyone know of him, or hear of this massive terrorist army he'd built up? Oracle hadn't. And generally she's pretty much in the know from the get-go."

"Usually super-villainous despots can't contain their power," Blue Beetle agreed, tapping a hand against his palm. "Or their greed. They pop up long before they've had a chance to really mature into a genuine threat – especially a planet-level one."

"And oh man, is this dude ever a threat now," chimed in Booster Gold with a rather melodramatic shudder. "I mean, lookit what he did to Rio … man, my fave party town …"

"Si," Green Flame said hotly. "My country did not fare well against this attack. Many lives were lost before the League could step in! Where did he come from?"

"We're sorry that we couldn't prevent all the damage, Beatriz," Diana said consolingly to her. "In Saskatchewan we were lucky; only our own people suffered damage, no civilians." Her face darkened. "But Metropolis fared even worse than did Brazil in that first attack. The numbers lost were unacceptably high."

"The question of where Ayestrom comes from is one we cannot answer today," J'onn said. "But it is a mystery we shall indeed need to solve before too long."

"I still can't figure why we hadn't seen hide nor hair of him before last month," Ollie complained again.

"He is simply a more patient and prepossessing individual than the run of the mill 'villains' with whom you are obviously accustomed to dealing," snorted Aquaman.

"Than _mos_t of us are," Diana said diplomatically as several of the junior reserves bristled, and Green Arrow's fingers twitched on his bowstring. "Ayestrom, obviously, knew to bide his time."

There was a moment of silence as the group digested this.

"Um, not to diss my college education or nothing," Kyle broke into the quiet, with a puzzled countenance, "but could anyone tell me what this 'ubermench' means, anyway? I, uh, majored in fine art, not linguistics." He hoped his blush wasn't visible under his mask.

"It was a term coined by 19th Century German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche," Batman said darkly. "In German, the word basically translates as 'super-man'."

"Ouch. Talk about a complex," Wally said with a wince, as Kyle whistled lowly. "Either he's a neo-Nazi with a mad-on for both the West and us Metas who're on the side of the angels, or …"

"Or he's really courting disaster with a moniker like that," Kyle said. "'Cuz I _think_ that name's already taken."

"Or," Black Canary speculated worriedly. "We've inadvertently sent him the one Christmas present he's been lusting after all along."

Kyle looked quickly at Batman to spot his reaction, but the Dark Knight remained as impassive as always.

_Probably already thought of that possibility_, he thought uneasily.

"Mon Dieu," Etienne said suddenly, as if just now putting two and two together. "Are you saying you have sent your Superman into our main base?"

When no one immediately answered, Kyle shifted his feet. "We-ell, it seemed like a good idea at the time."

Etienne squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head.

"Je vu. I had always wanted to meet the famed Man of Steel," he said, almost inaudibly. "I must admit, I read about him as often as I could in my native France. He was my childhood hero. Then, when I and my comrades first encountered Lord Ayestrom's men, and heard about their leader, I thought to myself: here is Europe's answer to the famed American 'l'Homme de Demain'. Only ours would be greater. And he would be no alien. Et alors ... and so ... be truly one of us."

"Superman _is_ one of us," snarled Steel, flexing his hands on his hammer.

Etienne ducked his head in apology. "As you say. I found myself overwhelmed by Ayestrom and his words. But still … after all your friend had done for the world entire, not just your United States … But I suppose it is now too late."

"It most certainly is _not_," Batman said, so sharply that the younger heroes all jumped. Wonder Woman and Steel nodded adamantly, and Etienne found himself looking back at twenty angry faces, and drew back in sudden mortal fear.

"Yeah, what he said," Flash sniffed. "And stop referrin' to the S-Man in the past tense. It's creepy."

"We prefer to live with a bit more optimism, if you don't mind," Kyle added, a green dove blooming into life from his Ring. A small S-shield was emblazoned on the dove's chest feathers.

"Kal-El was not yet in Ayestrom's clutches at our last communiqué," J'onn calmly reminded them all. "Not only is he effectively disguised, he is an extremely resourceful individual. I trust he will prevail."

The room visibly seemed to relax.

"As do I," Diana said stridently. "He shall escape and return to us whole. The only thing that would stop him is either a direct threat to the hostages, or …" She hesitated.

"Or if Ayestrom and his people already know he's there," Batman finished grimly.

There was an appalled sort of hush at these words throughout the room.

Kyle bit his lip. _Aw, crap ..._

--

To be Continued in the next post!

--

**Note:** The title of this Part, "Enfant Perdu" is an idiom, meaning "Lost Child", and of course refers to more than just the actual children in this story. (hmmm. ;-) )


	13. Enfant Perdu Part 2

**A/N: **All right! Cast of thousands in these chapters, (and goodness, what a challenge to write so many personalities!) but the story is picking up momentum! Hope you enjoy!**  
**

**Title: ** _JLA: _Necessary Force - Part 9: "Enfant Perdu" (2nd Half)  
**Author:** Paxwolf  
**Fandom:** _JLA/Justice League  
_**Rating: ** PG-13 (R in parts) **  
Warnings**: Mature Situations, Language, Violence  
**Disclaimer: **The JLA and its characters are owned by DC Comics and their parent company. Mine are owned by me. ;-)  
**Summary:** When a powerful terrorist threatens the safety of the planet, the Justice League must go to extremes to stop him, and Superman and Batman may have to make the biggest sacrifice of all.  
**Summary of This Part:** Batman leads the League in formulating the ultimate of plans in the first stage of the effort to bring down the terrorist and his army, and hopefully rescue the children - and a certain hapless Man of Steel - in the process.

**JLA**

**"Necessary Force"**

By Paxwolf**  
**

**Part IX:**

**"Enfant Perdu"**

(2nd half)

**T**he room was silent after Batman's grim statement.

_Was Superman a target all along? _ Kyle wondered, a feeling of sick dread rising in him.

"We have no evidence to support that," Black Canary argued quickly.

"That's right," added Oracle from seemingly out of the air. "When we last spoke, he was still full of determination and energy. He was keeping up his energy and humour. Even apprehended by the guards, he might still be able to talk his way out. And, geez, can that man talk when he has a mind. You'd think he uses words for a living or something."

"J'onn, couldn't you …?" Steel began hopefully.

"I wish that were possible, John Henry," the Martian rumbled softly. "However, as most of you may be unaware, each of Ayestrom's bases has been heavily fortified with a psychic barrier designed precisely to block telepathic probes and communication. With my degree of talent at such things, at greatest effort, I may be able to punch through, but without due cause, the risk of detection from whomever set up these barriers is unacceptably high."

"It is why we commissioned Ironworks to design that miniature comm system in the first place, Steel," Diana told him. "Including the special shielded frequencies."

"Yeah, I was wondering about that," Steel said, sighing. "Usually the JLA have the best communications systems in town, what with the t-link and all. I'm just sorry I let you guys down."

"It's not your fault, man," Kyle said, with a shrug. "That Ayestromy tech is just too good to be believed."

"But I also let Kal down," Steel whispered, not even having heard Kyle's words. "He may be captured, or worse, because of my … inadequacies."

"That was the best comm system I have ever worked with, Steel," Oracle said clearly. "And I should know."

"John Henry," Diana said, very firmly, laying a hand on his armoured shoulder. "You are in no way to blame. If Batman's theory is correct, then our enemy has orchestrated this situation all along, manipulating events and ourselves to his own ends. And if his theory is _no_t …"

"Hnnn," Batman grunted.

"…then it is a mere matter of misfortune and fate that our own technology was simply outmatched."

Steel nodded slightly, but kept his head bowed, leaning on the upright handle of his massive hammer.

"I also apologize," Etienne said sorrowfully. "I did not mean to imply…"

"Yes, you did," Kyle said cheerfully. "But that's okay. You don't know Supes like we do. You've been totally beguiled by this Oobermenk snake, dude. And you have no idea what our _own_ Überguy is capable of."

"Then what the hell are we hangin' around here jabberin' for?" Guy Gardner, Warrior, demanded restlessly. He had been one of the last that Flash had brought in from his surveillance post. "We've all been cryin' on about how it's not our fault, and whinin' about the way things have gone down. Well, I for one am sick of it. Let's just storm in, and tie that snake's tail in knots! Let's see how that forked tongue of his stops us all when we've got our game on!"

"It's not that simple a situation, Guy," Ice Maiden said in exasperation, colour high in her pale cheeks. "Or haven't you been listening?"

"Hey, babe, I know what I'm doing," Gardner snapped. "And I say we oughta go kick butt! ' Specially since it looks like the Big Blue Boy Scout needs his ass pulled outta the fire, an' I aim to be the one to do it, and then rub it in. I'd just love havin' Supes owe me a favour." He let out a snort of laughter. "Any of you pansies comin' along, or do I wipe this stuck-up, holier-than-thou European noseslime up all on my ownsome?"

"And here I thought _I_ was the hothead of the group," Green Arrow muttered as Gardner rose into the air, and began to power towards the door.

"Right then. I'll save you wimps a few snake scales!" Guy smirked insinuatingly as he disappeared from view.

No one moved.

"Green Lantern," Batman only said in a low voice.

Kyle nodded and instantly shot a beam of ring energy out the door. Two seconds later, a struggling Guy was dragged back in, looking like an enraged fly caught in green amber.

"What's the deal, snotmask?" Gardner gurgled out at Kyle as he thrashed helplessly.

"No one goes off half-cocked," Batman said menacingly. "And no one attacks the base. Are we clear?" He looked at them all.

The assembled heroes all looked at him before each nodded their heads, even, after a moment of obstinance, Aquaman.

"And Gardner," Batman hissed. "If you want a piece of this operation, you do as I say. And not one erg more."

Gardner angrily struggled for a few seconds more, but having been a former Green Lantern himself, gave up, realizing the futility of his escape attempt. Kyle couldn't quite hide his grin. "Okay, Bats, okay, I hear ya. I'll be a good little soldier," Guy mumbled finally as if he were chewing mud. At Batman's tiny nod, Kyle released him from the conjured jar to gargled oaths and under-his-breath threats, which everyone ignored. "Damn, I was so close to having the Big S in my debt."

"So why are we all here, Batman?" Atom queried after Guy had settled down somewhat. "What can we do?"

Batman gazed back at the assembled heroes, and slowly sat down, hands steepled in front of him. They watched him expectantly.

"We negotiate."

Everyone looked at each other.

"I … I beg your pardon?" Diana stammered, nonplussed.

_Did he just ...? _ Kyle shook his head disbelievingly.

"Surely you are jesting," Aquaman huffed. "To parley with this demon would certainly be perceived as a sign of weakness on our part."

Batman's lips thinned.

"What is it, Arthur," he asked evenly. "That both Monsieur Bondue and our instincts tell us that Ayestrom wants most of all?"

No one answered him, everyone simply waiting patiently for elaboration, until Kyle tentatively raised his hand.

"Um, power?" He flinched under the forest of frowns.

"Kyle, uh, I think it was a rhetorical question," Flash said in a stage whisper.

"Oh, yeah, I knew that…" Kyle ducked his head, and Batman, thankfully not sparing him a glance, continued.

"By forcing an attack, we would be playing straight into Ayestrom's hands. By buying more time, we gain an advantage – time for the UN's security forces to deploy, time to garner more intel on what we are facing on a military and superpower front. And, possibly more time for our own agent to either escape or, at the very least, further … distract Ayestrom from our aims." Batman's mouth twisted at that for a nearly imperceptible moment. "No matter what else is gained, we will not be responding the expected, predictable, League-like way, and the enemy won't be prepared for it."

"But the UN's already bargaining," protested Beetle. "What's the point of our attempting…?"

"We won't be negotiating for the same things, obviously," Diana cut in, thinking hard. Batman leaned back slightly and nodded once. "And if Ayestrom's demands to the UN are really just a façade anyway, then we can see how he reacts to a demand to come up with something else he wants, only this time, from _us_."

"It is _we_ with whom Lord Ayetrom truly wishes to deal, after all," J'onn said quietly. "Despite all of his posturing, I cannot imagine him refusing us."

"Well, it could throw him off guard, yeah, but maybe only for a microsecond or two," Flash shrugged.

"Even a moment is a moment more than we had before," J'onn said dryly. "I agree that it appears to be our best course of action for the nonce."

No one added anything further until a less reverent voice broke into the thick silence.

"The real question here is," Plastic Man mused aloud, causing Kyle to jump, "is figuring out just what a _nonce_ is, exactly. I mean, seriously, how much time can we precisely count on here? Is it a measurable unit? What would it correspond to? Anyone know? Anyone? Anyone? Hey, maybe it's like a _Battlestar Galactica_ time reference, only more medieval – like centons and sectars – what exactly were those _abou_t anyho…"

"Shut up, O'Brian!" Kyle, Wally, Booster, and Beetle all shouted simultaneously.

"What, like everyone's allowed to interject something into this boring conversation but me?" he demanded peevishly. "Sheesh. Talk about prejudice. Rights for the malleable!" Plas' body molded itself into a large red and black copy of the Free Speech Amendment.

"Oracle," Batman commanded perfunctorily, completely ignoring Plastic Man, "Set up a live band broadcast that the terrorists will positively scan. We will announce our intention to barter with them on behalf of the hostages. Clearly separate it from the UN's efforts."

"Your wish is my command, Boss."

"So, who's going to, um, do the, er, performance?" Kyle asked, curious.

"I'd like to volunteer my services!" Plastic Man immediately piped up, puffing out his chest very forward until his spine resembled a letter s. "I _am _an actor at heart."

"As most con artists are," Wally snickered to Kyle.

"Well, of course. I can fool anybody, any way, any day of the week," Plas said modestly, with a mock bow at the Flash. "I happen to have loads of experience. And although I possess a marked preference for the purity of the stage, I shall condescend to do a TV spot – this once."

"Thank you, Mr. O'Brian, for your generous offer," J'onn said, and Kyle swore he was trying to hide a smile. Plas deflated visibly – and literally. "But as much as your dramatic experience may benefit us, the League needs to present a more … serious image."

Plas puffed up again in indignation. "You sayin' I'm not respectable, Green Man? You sayin' no one's gonna take me seriously? Puh-leeze! I am the absolute epitome of respectability! I am the definitive symbol of serious contemplation and solemn cognition. When my name comes up in a thesaurus, it's lumped together with…"

_Oh, this's too easy ..._

"Ridiculousness and complete idiocy?" Booster piped up. "Whack job? Dunderhead? Nutcase?"

"Inappropriate comic relief?" Kyle stuck in. "Clownball oddity case, number oh oh one?"

Plas glared at Kyle. "See? SEE? Even the rookie takes shots at me. R.E.S.P.E.C.T.! That's what it means to me! I tell you I'm the _mother _of utter respectableness…"

"The mother of utter lunacy too," Wally commented with a straight face.

There was a great deal of eye rolling in the room. The atmosphere was, however, notably more relaxed than when the bulk of the reserves had arrived.

"I think it would be best if Batman were the one to present our so-called case on screen," Black Canary said, biting her lip in thought. "He'll give the correct air of, well, menace, if I can say that. And veracity."

"I stand insulted," Plastic Man grumbled, morphing into a donkey and turning his rump on the group.

Batman shook his head at Canary.

"No. I work best from behind the scenes. Ayestrom has studied us obsessively. He knows how we work. He may divine something off-key if it were I who spoke so … publicly." He curled his lip. "I'd like it to be Diana and Arthur who speak, who at least offer our initial terms to the enemy."

Wonder Woman and Aquaman exchanged looks.

"Reasoning?" asked Atom, leaning forward in interest.

"They have both been spokespersons for the League in its previous incarnations," Batman began to tick off patiently. "They are each highly visible and powerful members in their own right, each have garnered a good deal of respect from various nations in the world, each presents an air of command and royal presence, and neither are viewed as American. They should adequately convey the proper and misdirected message of our apparently sincere desire to negotiate, as well as our prioritizing the safety of the hostages."

Ray leaned back in his seat and several people were nodding, impressed at Batman's neat display of logic.

"Fine," Aquaman said gruffly, folding his arms across his chest. "I've got a few choice words I'd like to convey to this squid."

"We cannot afford to insult him," J'onn reminded gently. "Not if we expect to be genuinely … diverting."

"I'll keep the choicer words to myself then," Aquaman smiled thinly. "For now."

"I'll be glad to undertake this task," Diana said, leaning forward with a frown. "Even if it be difficult to stomach parleying with this monster."

"I really hate just jawin' with the bad guys," Guy Gardner grumbled irritably. "They're the frickin' _bad guys_, for godsakes. It's just wrong."

Many of the heroes shifted uncomfortably, privately agreeing with Gardner on this.

"Sometimes, Guy," Black Canary said philosophically. "Ours is not just to fight the physical fight. But to strike with words is still taking a stand, still doing our part. Still resisting evil. And sometimes the effects are longer lasting."

"I still like a hard take-down much better," sniped Guy, slamming his fist down on the table.

"Oh yeah, pounding this nutcase into powder would undoubtedly be far more satisfying," Steel said grimly.

"Roger that," Kyle added, a giant green fist appearing above him, squeezing a huge, mascara-lined eye.

"So," Steel looked up, taking a visible hold on his anger, "just what will the content of this little 'performance' be?"

"We will not, of course, make any admission that we are aware of Ayestrom's true designs," Batman answered. "We shall merely equivocate; feign a helplessness to act, and emphasize our concern for the hostages, and for the world. We might want to seem cowed by his multiple Mantle Drill attacks around the globe. After all, these are serious threats. And ... we ask him." He looked around the room. "We ask him what he wants, plainly and directly. With any luck, he'll be stymied. That will buy us additional time." He shook his head. "This situation is a powderkeg, ready to ignite at the drop of a hat, and our allies must be better prepared than they currently are for the inevitable explosion."

Kyle opened his mouth and Batman instantly overrode him as if reading his mind. "And by no means will we confess to having planted an agent in his midst, even if he suspects such is the case. And then seeks to verify it."

_Oh_, man ...

"How does Bats do that?" Kyle whispered to Wally, awed. "He's worse than J'onn."

"And if he wonders at one particular member's rather … conspicuous absence?" Huntress asked, speaking for the first time from her watchful corner. "Superman is not exactly known for sitting on the sidelines in times of crisis."

"And if this guy is as fixated on him as you say…" Dinah added to her partner's observation worriedly.

"Hey," Flash jumped in, "We can always just say he's off-planet right now for some space mission or other – I mean, he's always going off on those…"

"They'll never buy it."

Batman nodded. "You're both right, Arthur, Huntress. They know that Superman would never leave the Earth in the midst of this current crisis, no matter the possible calls from other worlds. And they will undoubtedly demand to speak with Superman himself as our chief negotiator. He is generally seen as the main League leader, and Ayestrom's monstrous ego will allow no lesser substitute."

"Then we're screwed," Kyle said in frustration, pounding on the camp table.

"Not if we _do_ provide him with Superman," Batman returned, sounding suddenly impossibly smug.

"But that's impossible," Wally said grumpily. "We already know we can't extract our fearless leader from the base, and isn't that a big part of our problem right there?"

"We cannot produce the real thing, true, but we can put on display a reasonable … facsimile." He flicked an almost smile at J'onn. Kyle almost thought he was seeing things.

Wally started to laugh. "Oh, yeah! Better than Odo!"

"All obscure pop culture references aside, I have had the opportunity to play the part of Kal-El previously," J'onn told them all. "Thus I have had the necessary experience in assuming his shape and in recreating his voice and mannerisms. I can certainly do so again."

"Whyever on earth would you have done that?" Booster Gold asked, obviously intrigued.

Kyle could see many of the reserve members' curiosity were aroused. He was mighty curious himself as he turned to J'onn to get all the sordid details straight. But J'onn only snorted and looked nearly affronted at what he no doubt thought a breach of privacy.

"It is rather personal. Suffice to say that such a deception was required in the circumstances at the time."

"Okaaay," Booster said, clearly disappointed. "Be that way."

"You will need to be extremely careful, J'onn," warned Diana. "If Ayestrom and his cronies have studied us to the degree that both Etienne and Canary's informant have claimed, they will be very aware of both your own abilities and nearly every nuance of Kal's public personality, including the lexicon he generally employs."

"If you can pull this role off successfully, Manhunter," remarked the Atom admiringly. "It'll really be an Oscar-worthy bit of acting!"

"I shall be most careful," J'onn said assuredly. "Even if no grandiose award show follows. But with any modicum of fortune, it will not be necessary, for our friend will have engineered his own escape before he is needed to appear."

"I do not trust to luck," Batman said darkly. At the others' looks at him, he unexpectedly lowered his head. "I do, however, hope that your own beliefs in it prove true."

"Amen," sighed Canary, with Steel and most of the others nodding silently.

"Then it's settled," Batman said with finality, glancing authoritatively around at the group. "Oracle, get to work immediately. Diana, Arthur, prepare for your opening gambit, and J'onn … do what it is you need to in the chance we need your own 'performance'. Everyone else, return to your surveillance or support positions for the time being. We must stay alert for any possible surprises Ayestrom may still throw our way. Flash will keep everyone informed of further developments on our end. Refrain, if you please, from using your commlinks unless it's an absolute emergency. And it goes without saying, but be very cautious, all of you."

"Aye, aye, sir," said Gardner grudgingly, with an overly smart salute.

"Yeah, who died and made him general?" grumbled Booster.

"Uh, Boose, you just might wanna rephrase that," Beetle said, with a wince at the twin glowers from both Batman and Wonder Woman. "If you get what I mean."

Booster had the grace to swallow and blush.

As everyone dispersed to return to his or her previous position, Kyle Rayner sighed and put his head in his hands for a moment, in no hurry to resume his own post.

"Everything okey-dokey, GL?" Plastic Man asked as he snaked past. "You look majorly bummed. Hey, and it's me that should be down in the mouth." The corners of Plas' lips slung towards the floor. "I'm the one who was passed over for my big television debut!"

"Oh. Yeah," Kyle's head jerked up off the table. "Plas. Sorry. Yeah, I'm good. It's just…" he hesitated.

Plas paused. "What?"

"Nothing, man." He shook his head. "Personal. Pales in comparison to the melodrama reaching Act Three 'round these parts."

"O-kay. If you're sure…"

"Positive, Plas. But, hey, thanks. I'll give you a lift to your post if you want?"

"Cool. Book me a seat back to Mordor, Ring-Bearer!"

"All aboard then," Kyle said, the brightness in his voice forced. "Courtesy of Oan Air!"

He willed a travelling bubble to form around a comfortably-seated, newspaper-reading Plastic Man and ringed out of the makeshift League headquarters without a backwards glance.

Batman watched them go with a slight frown. Something was going on with Kyle, but he wasn't privy to whatever it was … yet.

As the League's unofficial tactician, he deemed it his obligatory duty to keep up with all aspects of the team members' lives, health, and mental states. It was absolutely necessary – in a crisis especially – that each component of the team work in tandem like a well-oiled machine. Even one malfunctioning cog in the wheel could seriously jeopardize the efficiency of that machine.

At that thought, he unwillingly pictured a sudden image of Superman, who had now been incommunicado for over two hours.

As a rule, Batman prided himself on his mental discipline and on his ability to master worry regarding things over which he had no control. But tonight, perhaps due to his own increasing fatigue, or perhaps to the knowledge of what a monster like Ayestrom was truly capable, he experienced an unaccustomed anxiety. Combined with a sudden, inexplicable memory of Superman's vivid description of the strange, dark dreams he had been suffering from so terribly lately, Batman had difficulty suppressing the frisson of fear that suddenly coursed through him.

_Clark_, he thought fiercely. _Kal. We will find a way to get you out of there. I will … _whatever_ it takes._

He looked up abruptly to find Etienne, who had not left with the others, watching him. He instantly schooled his features into his usual grim visage.

"Time to settle to work, mon ami," he grunted, rising from his chair. "N'est-ce pas?"

"Ah, bien sur, Monsieur Chauvre-Souris," Etienne grinned a bit, then faltered at Batman's forbidding expression. "Mais, je comprends. If it were my best friend who had…"

"Superman and I are not best friends," Batman snapped. "We are colleagues. Teammates. And the Justice League's odds of success would be dramatically increased with his strength and willpower on our side in this conflict. And that is all."

"B-but of course," Etienne stammered. "Je m'excuse."

"I would strongly recommend you stick to the facts in this venture, Bondue. And not follow the example of our younger and more fanciful members by entertaining elaborate and useless ideas of little relevance to our campaign." Batman leaned forward. "D'accord?"

Etienne swallowed tightly. "My … my apologies, monsieur." He found himself actually backing up a step. "Whatever I can do…"

"Rack your memory for anything remotely useful about Ayestrom's troops, weapons, powers, bases … anything important. Write them down. Otherwise, keep your head down and stay out of our way."

Batman swept out of the tent, leaving an intimidated young Frenchman behind.

Once out in the cold, crisp air of the early dawn, he paused, and shuddered, leaning back against the wall of the medical M.A.S.H. hut that Steel and Atom had earlier erected. He stood for a long moment with his head bowed, breathing harshly.

"You were a bit hard on our young friend," sounded a soft voice from one side. He stiffened.

"He's a turncoat. Less than six hours ago he worked for that bastard. He's got to learn it's not going to be easy for him."

"I see," Diana said matter-of-factly. "And I'm sure that such a justification for your little speech makes you feel better not one bit."

Batman said nothing, only looking away in the direction of the crimson and gold-tinged eastern sector of the city. Diana only watched him for a few seconds, before also looking out at the sky.

"I should have accompanied him," Batman finally said, almost imperceptibly. There was no need to explain to whom the pronoun referred.

Diana stood for long moments and watched the distant crest of the sun appear over the horizon with him, neither speaking.

"Hold on to your hope, Bruce," she said at last. "And if you find that you cannot, then let my hope hold onto you. I have enough for the both of us."

"How can you…" he began, voice rough.

"Because I trust him," she said clearly. "I have faith in him. And I have faith in us, as well."

She gripped his gloved forearm gently until he at last gave a stiff, reluctant almost-nod, and together they turned to step into the bright rays of the newly risen sun, already working on the ways that would lead to victory even as they wrestled with the demons of despair.

Continued in Part 10, "Gauntlet", very soon.

--

Feedback, as always, is love. :-)


	14. Gauntlet

**JLA**

"**Necessary Force"**

**By Paxwolf**

**Note:** Please see all disclaimers, warnings, notes, and acknowledgements at the front of the First Part of this little novella of mine, "Necessary Force", or on the headers for each Part. Thank you!

**Part X:**

"**Gauntlet"  
**

**T**he oblivious object of Batman and Wonder Woman's concern flattened himself against the rock beside the cave opening as the footsteps of his returning guard grew in volume. Waiting, tension building, the minutes ticking by until he could feel the strain in his muscles and his heart beating ever faster, Superman held himself completely immobile.

Any second now ... any second ....

_Now._

Carefully timing his move to an inhuman degree of precision, he lashed out with a lightning-fast backfist, rotating his arm with restrained force from the elbow. The unfortunate approaching merc's head whipped back in pain and shock, but before he could fall backwards out into the corridor, Superman twisted forward, grabbed the guard's shirt and brought his knee up into the man's jaw with a resounding crack. The guard slumped into his arms, unconscious, not having even emitted a squeak.

_Well. There it is._

He inwardly sighed and then swiftly dragged the limp body back into the holding chamber to prop it up against the rusty desk, feeling a strange mixture of guilt and satisfaction. He was sure he had accidentally broken the guard's nose and jaw, having not quite pulled his blows enough to prevent injury.

_Sorry, mein Freunde._

He had, however, overheard the man's (Romanian) conversation with his partner out in the corridor, and his plans to go in and further torment the old, seemingly helpless dreg they had arrested before the overseer's return, which was apparently imminent. He had grimaced and readied himself, knowing he didn't have much time to make good his escape. He could ill afford to get caught by someone who would quickly recognize that he didn't belong down there.

And then he had heard the guards discuss their new ideas, with great glee, on how to further subjugate and intimidate a particular family of Czech 'refugees' who had recently arrived at the base, and were still in the process of ajusting to their new lives and their new lord. The mercenaries' plans had been particularly nasty in both cases. Superman had quickly realized that these guards regularly got off on the torture and abuse of their less fortunate fellow denizens of this underground base, and for whatever reason, he couldn't quite bring himself to feel overly regretful of his use of force.

_We've got to bring these monsters down, for the good of all these people. No matter what it takes._

At any rate, it was past time for this sickly, frail, helpless prisoner to take his leave. Long past.

He catfooted back to the cave entrance, listening intently to the sounds without, counting the number of different heartbeats audible. How to best slip out unnoticed?

He thought for a brief moment, and then lowered himself silently to the cold floor. Inching his body slowly forward until he was in a position to act once his x-ray vision told him he was safe from the immediate notice of both his remaining guard and the squad of armed mercenaries loafing directly across from the detainment cave on the other side of the wide passageway, he drew a deep breath. Steadying himself, he peered straight through the rock wall, and patiently waited for an opportune moment.

The seconds ticked by. Any moment the overseer would be back.

_There._

Seizing his chance, he pushed his head out quickly, directing a narrow stream of air in a powerful burst at three of the pre-fabricated wall struts directly behind the lounging soldiers. His aim and control both proved true as the entire set of walls collapsed with a loud clatter direclty on top of the squad, causing instant and total chaos. They didn't shatter into pieces, and therefore he hoped the collapse would appear to be a result of their shoddy construction. He couldn't quite help the smile that escaped him as the walls fell with perfect precision.

_Well, I'm no Joshua and that's no Jericho, but hopefully the results will be as good! _

The pandemonium was terrific; men falling under the walls like ten-pins, passers-by cowering and covering their heads as they screamed that the stone ceiling was caving in. His own remaining guard shouted in panic and raced over to help the others, even though it was obvious to Superman that no serious injury could possibly result from the light pre-fabricated material. But the instant all attention was focussed away from his side cave, Superman shot to his feet and MOVED.

Thankfully, no meta-ability scanner thingamajigs were set up nearby, and so, with any luck, his employment of super-speed would go entirely unnoticed.

_Too bad I can't just run my speedy way straight out of here_, he thought wryly as he ran beyond the sight range of the mess behind him_. It would certainly save a lot of time and trouble._

He narrowly avoided bowling over a trio of workers as he twisted and angled his way through the maze of makeshift corridors and side tunnels. With no time to stop and too late to simply fly straight up at his speed, he reflexively used his momentum to vault over the heads of the three men into an aerial somersault, feet hitting the floor silently behind them. He whipped around to ensure that he hadn't hurt them, vanishing from sight as they were turning to gawk at where the mysterious rush of wind had hailed from.

"What was that?" he heard one ask in Hungarian.

"Beats the hell outta me. Felt kinda good though, a breeze down here in this damned heat."

He sped further away.

There were simply too many people and obstacles in this part of the cavern system for the continued use of super-speed, and the cave ceiling was either too low or cluttered with hanging equipment and banners to fly or float unnoticed along it. With an uneasy feeling Superman was forced to slow down, burying his frustration – and his awareness of his growing need to already rest - by noting how the suspended banners showcased a giant red and black eye. The heavy symbolism was not lost on him.

Superman pulled up in the first unoccupied sheltered alcove he could find. He was a bit breathless, and finally acknowledged the faint tinge of alarm he felt at the physical evidence of overexertion his body was exhibiting. He stilled his shaking limbs and recovered his breath, leaning over the slight pull of a stitch in his side. Rao, he felt tired. And his ribs which had broken when the Mantle Drill had exploded on him had begun to ache persistently again. He supposed he never had fully healed from that particular incident after all.

He frowned and bent forward, testing the pull in his side muscles, and had to draw up short with a sharp gasp at the sudden spike of red-hot pain.

_Oh, this can't be good._

He calmed his breathing and ran an unsteady hand across his brow, feeling sweat, grime, and dark makeup come away with it.

There was no help for it. He would have to be more careful.

At least he had escaped from the mousetrap he'd been in. But what now? Getting back into the upper levels of the base and into the estate above wouldn't exactly prove a piece of cake, what with every elevator and access ladder guarded like maximum security cells at Belle Reve. And once the alarm was raised after his absence was noticed …

He sighed. Well, there was nothing for it but to try.

Falling back into the guise of old Gunter Czerwinski, he once more withdrew his walking stick and limped out into the passageway, striving to bring as little notice to his presence as possible. On the long trip back to the access shafts he became expert at avoiding the patrolling guards and the lounging merc squads. Fortunately, his rather homely appearance and undeniably artfully manufactured odour served to keep most of the resident labourers from accosting him, as Kyle had figured. A few, however, did cast him glances of disgust, and at times pity, as he shambled past.

_The humanity hasn't been completely beaten out of them. Not yet._

He turned into another corridor to be faced with two heavily laden men staggering towards him, unable to clearly see their path over the top of the stack of cardboard cartons they was carrying. Superman twisted aside, unable to back out of the way in time. The first box just grazed him, and he sidestepped as the second passed, pressing himself hard against the makeshift wall on the right. Nevertheless the unbalanced topmost box scraped against his shoulder as the man weaved from the weight, and the contact caused the carton to slide off and begin to tumble to the floor. Superman quickly stooped and caught the box before it hit, turning to face the man's sudden glare.

"Watch it, you," the worker snarled in Cockney-laced English. "Nearly made me tip me whole load, you did."

Superman blinked. "I beg your pardon," he only said politely, and lifted the carton in his hands, offering it back.

"An' gimme back me property, scuzzheap," the man shouted, "or I'll 'ave ye 'rested fer stealin', won't I?"

Fearing the scene would attract the attention of a patrol, Superman did not protest or debate the merits of common courtesy, and simply heaved the box on top of the man's load as if it weighed a great deal. The man spit out a vile oath, glared further daggers at him, and tottered off, muttering acidly to his companion, "Jesus, the folks they let in 'ere. You'd think they'd 'ave _some_ standards, yeah?"

Superman shook his head in sadness as he turned to continue, recognizing the desperation in the worker's bile.

_This is a deplorable situation down here indeed._

Again, he thought of the finery and extravagance of the opulant estate above. He wondered how these regular denizens were brought down to these lower levels. Was there another entrance and exit way?

_That would be very good to know. _He shook his head. _ But I can't afford to try and find out anything further, I'm afraid. Not now._

They would have to manage the best they could with what information he did carry.

He checked the time counter in his head. He had been down there for long enough that he was hours past his original rendezvous time with Batman. And he knew that the League wouldn't be able to hold off the questions from Luthor or the UN for much longer. And who knew what Ayestrom was planning next, or if already more Mantle Drills had been targetting weak points in the Earths' crust in vulnerable countries, or if more cities had been attacked, or if more diplomats had been abducted, or if ... or if ...

_I've _got_ to get out of here._

He was concentrating so fiercely on keeping a low profile that he shuffled right past an elevator door that led to the upper levels before his brain caught up with his eyes and realized what his peripheral vision had spied. Carefully not pausing, he continued past the bored watch of the exit's guards and, when their attention was trained on a group of men in hardhats approaching the old lift, slipped behind another wall. He studied the ensuing interaction through the wall with x-ray vision, watching how the foreman flashed an ID card read by a high-tech scanner that had been produced by the sentries. The helmeted men appeared to be mining engineers. He noted that each man bore a stylized red tattoo of an eye on his left wrist.

_Interesting. He likes to mark his people._

With mounting frustration, he saw how each member of the group was diligently carded and searched before being permitted to board the lift. There would be no feasible way he would be able to pass as one of them, especially without an ID badge or the now-visible tattoo. But then again, this might be his only opportunity to get into an upper level before Czerwinski's disappearance was noticed.

It would have to be now or never.

Straightening his spine, he tensely waited for the precise moment between the last engineer's step into the lift and the doors' closing. He edged cautiously around the corner, carefully calculated the air current and pressure, and at the millisecond the last man's foot was clear of the threshold and the elevator began to hiss shut, he inhaled a stream of thin air sharply and completely. He snatched the oxygen straight out of the farther guard's airspace. The guard gasped, clutching helplessly at his throat, lungs straining at the sudden decompression. He fell forward as his partner gave an alarmed shout and sprang forward to catch him. In the split instant between his leap and the doors' close, Superman flashed into the lift, hitting the access panel he'd spotted in its ceiling, and streaked onto the exterior roof. He was out of the elevator before the occupants of it could comment on the strong breeze or the blur of grey they thought they'd seen from the corner of their eyes.

It had all happened so fast that less than two full seconds had elapsed between the start of Superman's dash, and the time he was on top of the elevator.

_Wally, you'd be proud of me._

Slightly releasing the iron control over his limbs, his neck knotted painfully in tension, Superman dared breathe again as he crouched lightly on the roof of the rising lift, letting the thick cables slide against his palms. He couldn't quite quell the slight tremor in his legs as he risked a few seconds of rest and reconnoiter.

_Thank goodness I don't have to do that too often._

That had been touch and go there, but with any luck, he'd escaped that deathly cavern scot-free with none the wiser.

No sooner had he entertained that hope than he heard the telltale soft thumps from below his feet of several bodies falling to the floor.

_Wha-?_

His eyes widened as he quickly looked through the lift ceiling and saw the engineer corps lying unconscious; simultaneously, he detected the very faint scent of gas filling both the elevator interior and its shaft. Immediately he expelled the rest of his last breath and closed his throat, not daring to ingest even a whiff more of the poisoned air, not without knowing if the unrecognized substance could affect even his physiology. He couldn't afford to take that chance.

_Poetic irony,_ he thought with a grim smile, holding his breath determinedly, _hoist by my own petard, it would seem! A breath for a breath._

He figured that the elevator had to be equipped with sensors that measured the slight weight increase as he'd settled on its roof_. Dammit_, he thought as his lungs began to feel the strain._ I should have simply kept flying upwards and not paused to rest. But I ought to outlast this newest trap. I have no choice! I must!_

He knew a normal man would have either passed out by then or succumbed to the increasingly painful need to draw a breath, but even without the necessary inhalation for the storage of air, he could resist breathing for much longer than could any ordinary human being. Still, with his solar cells near drained, even he wouldn't survive for too long in that shaft without any oxygen supply at all. Sooner or later, he would have to take a breath or risk passing out.

Looking up, mouth tightly compressed against the growing strain of airless lungs, black dots already beginning to dance around the edges of his vision, he saw that the shaft didn't extend all the way into the mansion proper but ended at the lowest of the sub-level basements.

_Good enough_, he thought a touch desperately, and heaved himself up, moving with tremendous effort to the top of the shaft, losing momentum foot by foot as he painfully ascended.

With the last of his will, blackness clotting his sight, the ache in his chest nearly unbearable, he hurled himself bodily through the basement's doors, heedless of possible sentries or scanners he had no time or energy left to check for. He smacked messily into the cement floor, skidded across it with the crushed steel doors curled around his body, and fetched up hard against the far concrete wall.

He sprawled there unmoving for several precious seconds, gasping at the clear air like a decked fish, feeling like he could never get enough.

_Rao._

Slowly – too slowly – he regained his equilibrium and peeled the broken metal off of him before pushing himself to his knees. He scanned around him carefully for approaching guards or cameras or the meta-power detectors that were rapidly proving the bane of his existence. None were in immediate view or hearing range. Thanking his lucky stars, he untangled his legs from the remains of the lift doors and slowly got to his feet, chest still heaving.

_What a mess. If Batman could see me now_, he thought with a sigh. _So much for subterfuge._

Never mind that this base – this Ayestrom – was far better protected than even their hard-won information had suggested. Never mind that the whole organization was far better implemented, funded, and supplied than any of them had thus far believed. Never mind that this whole situation was far more dire than anyone could have possibly guessed.

_I've got a lot to still report to the League before we can finally make our move._

Thinking of his colleagues as he silently melted into the shadows of the sub-basement, having little choice but to leave the broken doors as they were, Superman carefully activated his tiny commlink. Despite the risk of detection, he had to attempt contact. The League would likely be mad with worry. He grinned a bit strainedly at the thought.

_Oracle's attitude must be rubbing off on me._

"Superman to League," he said, sotto voce.

He waited. He moved further into the level, searching for another means of egress.

Still no response seemed forthcoming. He frowned.

"Oracle. Come in, please."

Nothing.

"Batman, Superman here. Please respond."

Only static answered him.

With a spiraling feeling of dread, he removed the miniscule device from his shirt and inspected it with microscopic vision. His heart sank as he saw that its circuits were clearly fried. Somehow in the past hour's worth of excitement, it had been irreversibly damaged.

Damn. He would truly be on his own now.

He closed his eyes and then his fist, crushing the communicator into dust. It wouldn't do for it to be discovered now, either on his person or lying about somewhere.

Setting his teeth, he resumed his creeping oh-so careful pace, on the sharp lookout for ways out of this madhouse. He had little doubt that he would soon be tracked.

_I _have_ to get out of here. And I have to find a way ... _now.

Despite his care, it wasn't until he heard with his accentuated hearing the condemning click of hidden machinery that he zeroed in on the meta-scanner that had, at long last, detected him.

_Oh no ... no ..._

He squeezed his eyes shut in an instant of self-recrimination before gazing through the wall at the hidden scanner. This one didn't include a camera at least, so whoever was monitoring these things still wouldn't know to describe him physically. It merely recorded sound and motion. He burned the device a second after spotting it, and took off at a run from the vicinity in an unpredictable super-speed zigzag pattern. He knew he was being illogical in his hope that Ayestrom's men would assume that there had simply been a malfunction in the detector. And that was confirmed an instant later when he saw ahead of him a previously static sensor suddenly activate.

_As if on command. _

All over the level, backup sensors and scanners were alerted and came online.

_Uh oh._

Instantly, he came to a wary stop, crouching in the shadows. Try as he might, he couldn't see any clear path through to the rest of the immense sub-basement, or towards any possible access points.

Except for one.

He suddenly spotted a short corridor ahead, leading through a series of fortunately lead-free walls. It seemed suspicious as it had only a single sensor monitoring it, but already his ears were picking up the unmistakable sounds of a search on that level.

_Going back certainly isn't an option. _

Whether summoned by the wrecked lift doors, or the elevator's activated weight sensors and subsequent gas release, or by the destroyed scanner that had finally managed to pick up his presence, there was no way to ascertain just why a search patrol had been sent out.

_Probably because of all three_, he mused in growing anxiety, scanning in all directions desperately_. _More meta-detectors, and more guards, everywhere he looked_. I'm sorry, Bruce! I've really botched it up here._

The sounds seemed to be closing in on his position. Wildly, he looked around for another avenue of escape.

_Anything._ _Any means ..._

There were none. He'd be driven right to that little corridor unless he wanted to turn and try to power his way straight through the surrounding walls or ceilings. But if he did that, the infiltration game would surely be up, bringing every mega-weaponed goon or meta-powered lackey straight down onto him. And what would happen to the hostages then?

_I've got to think ..._

Clenching his jaw, he rose and scuttled to the edge of the open corridor, and staying out of range, concentrated on its single sensor.

If he could just fool it into believing no one had passed through its corridor …

He studied it and with a sinking heart saw that it was not a visual scanner nor an audial one, nor even a meta-power detector. Any of those he might have been able to think a way around. But this one picked up on heat, of any sort. No living being would be able to get through that passage undetected, not even one moving at super-speed. Indeed, the air friction of his passing would cause the air molecules in the confined space to be registered at an even higher temperature than the norm. It was hidden, powerful, and nearly foolproof. He shouldn't have been able to even see it.

The security around here sure knew what they were doing when they set up their plethora of devices.

_Damn, even the back-ups have redundancies built right in. Back-up built on back-ups. For just how long has this base been in operation here?_

He knew the distant signs of pursuit were growing closer and felt his spine tighten. So little time! But there was simply no way on Earth that he could allow this one invisible, intangible barrier to stop him now.

_There might be one way around this, crazy as it is ..._

Thinking quickly, he braced himself, taking a wide, balanced stance. He focussed inward with all his might, all too aware of the fast-approaching guards.

_Please, please let this work!_

Superman applied all of his formidable will to precision control over his physiological functions. Little by little, his ambient body temperature began to drop. His heart slowed its frantic beating, his blood began to run sluggishly through his veins, and his internal organs began to stop producing heat.

Of all the incredible things Superman could do with his body, this was one of the most difficult. And he'd had little need to practice or perfect the technique. Perhaps it was as challenging as it was, he and the Atom had once theorized together, because it was so completely contrary to what his cells naturally did: store and amplify solar energy. But it was theoretically possible to do. He'd just never had to take it as far as he would have to now.

_But I can do this. I have to!_

He had once spent several months of weekends training with J'onn J'onzz on the moon, pushing his powers and abilities to their maximum capacity, trying to stretch to the limits of his power potential. He smiled grimly as he realized that this entire mission had so far proved those past efforts in very good stead.

_Thank you, J'onn ..._

Concentrating with all his strength, Superman felt his body growing cooler with each passing second, along with a thrill of hope.

It was going to work.

If he could slip through the passage without tripping the sensor, and with no other way out into the upper recesses of the base from this particular point, the searchers behind him would be forced to conclude that no one could possibly have come by this way. He would then be free to escape up into another basement level, and eventually get out through the mansion above, with everyone searching in other areas for a spy no one would ever find.

_It's working ... I'm getting cold ..._

But even as his body grew several degrees cooler, he suddenly saw that as slowly as the cooling process was taking, he just wasn't going to make it in time. Not before the searchers reached the passageway and spotted him. Unwilling to give up, seeing no other feasible alternative, he realized he would have to speed up the process, and thereby up the risk factor.

In his mind's ear he could practically hear Batman's disapproval.

_But what else can I do?_

In sheer desperation, he opened his mouth and began to forcefully exhale hard and fast, directing his super-cooled breath against the surface of his body itself.

His already cold limbs began to freeze over, his clothing and skin becoming coated with layer after layer of ice, spreading over his back and up over his neck and the back of his head. The cold self-generating ice spread and thickened. Every ounce of moisture on his person and in his lungs served to freeze him even more deeply, until he was thoroughly covered with ice and frost from head to foot. Dimly through the ice filling his ears, he heard the increasingly loud footfalls and shouts approaching his corridor.

_No ... I don't ... I don't know if I'll make it in time ..._

At the same time, he began to be aware of the pain.

_God, Bruce ..._

The cold was so intense as it enveloped him completely, inside and out, that it became an overwhelming struggle just to continue. He nevertheless fought to keep going, to keep growing colder, colder, still colder ...

_I ... have to ... go on ..._

But interminable seconds later, he abruptly knew he had no more physical strength to continue. His body just stopped cooling, of its own accord, against his mental will to keep going, to keep freezing.

It was as if his power had suddenly shut down.

_That's ... that's it, then._

He knew instinctively that if he became any colder, he wouldn't be able to just not function, he could very well _die_.

_S'funny_, he thought as if from a great distance, _how the ... absolute zero ... of unprotected space ... seems somehow ... less frigid than this ... self-generated ... cold._

It, in fact, felt more like he was being burned alive than frozen, the pain was so great. The cold seared his skin, eyes, and insides as if iced over with licks of pure flame.

_I ... have to ... move ... but I ... don't know ... if I can ..._

He forced himself to snap out of his strange, drugged reverie, and pushed his leaden legs to move forward.

_I ... have to!_

Sluggishly, he staggered into the heat sensor's zone of detection, and if he had had any breath at all to spare, he would have held it.

No immediate alarm sounded; the sensor could detect no heat source.

He felt a surge of relief and so he kept going, moving solely on hope. It took every bit of willpower he could muster to force himself step by hurting step into the corridor, an even harder struggle to resist activating his heat vision there and then and turn it on himself. His dragging feet, numbed beyond sensation, tripped abruptly over a crack in the concrete floor, and no longer having the energy or speed left to flail for balance, he fell, hard. The impact felt like it had shattered every bone in his body, the agony centering around his ribs, and he had to bite his blue lips hard to keep from screaming aloud.

Was he too late? Were the guards and mercenaries of Ayestrom already at the mouth of the passageway, watching and laughing as he floundered and flopped on the floor like some broken thing? He felt the fear rise in him as he realized he could no longer hear anything at all save for his own laboured breathing and the too-slow beat of his heart. But he wasn't about to lie there and be taken helplessly either.

Calling on all his reserves, he started to drag himself painfully forward, down the last indeterminately long yards of the endless-seeming corridor, no longer able to feel anything but the bone-searing cold.

It began to feel like he would never know what warmth was again, and every drag of his body along the rough floor was surely tearing and cracking his brittle skin right open. He tried to ignore the horrible sensations and kept going, inch by precious inch.

_Must not stop … keep moving … crawl … scramble … pull … whatever it takes … just ... keep going …_

Bit by bit, foot by foot, Superman clawed his way across the floor, praying he would clear the corner before his pursuers could catch up to him, that they weren't behind him already, watching his painful and awkward progress in indolent mockery.

His eyes finally hurt so much from the dry cold he had to squeeze them shut; they had filmed over with a spreading frost anyway until sight was useless, and all he could see were glimpses of translucent, dim light. Blind and deaf, unable to even feel the floor or walls when his elbows and knees struck them, he had to rely on his memory alone to judge if he had wormed his way far enough to reach the corner and therefore be safely out of immediate view.

Safe only if his pursuers weren't already there, or didn't just pound down the little corridor anyway, he amended, allowing that worry to distract him from the fiery cold. Whether they did or not, he was forced to acknowledge to himself that he had at last reached the end of his limits.

He could push himself no further.

He knew he was seconds from passing out, and he couldn't permit that. Not yet.

_I ... can't. I can't._

In his mind he called up his memory of the corrridor, and calculated his position. He visualized himself having reached the end of the hallway of hell and forced his rapidly failing strength to make his body turn. He moved so agonizingly slowly, the sloth compared to the light-footed cheetah he had been only a half an hour earlier.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

He suddenly felt his forward progress impeded and knew he'd pressed up against an unyielding wall. He curled into a tight ball against it, feeling even the searing cold fire fading into utter, blessed numbness. How completely exhausted he was. How very tempting it would be to sink into the painless false warmth now spreading throughout his limbs and just rest for a while. Vaguely, he could feel his brain begin to shut down; his heart was barely beating at all anymore. How very easy it would be to simply let go, just float off into the inviting darkness that was beckoning him with seductive warmth. The darkness had such welcoming arms …

He would rest for just a little bit.

Yes, what harm could there be in that? Just a short breather to recover some strength so he could press on again.

_Just a few seconds of rest …_

He no longer felt cold. He no longer felt anything.

__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __


End file.
